Kore-eda's newest feature continues in the same vein as his other unhurried and placid works. His characters are caught in a state of flux, between transitionary moments, exemplified perfectly in his serene and incredibly original film, "After Life." Other reviewers have frequently mentioned that film as a note of comparison, but really "Nobody Knows" hearkens back further in the director's career to his sublime and visually intoxicating "Maboroshi," about a widow coping with the sudden death of her spouse. Kore-eda is in his comfort zone here, capturing moments of transcendental beauty in the quotidian. What makes Kore-eda such a gifted artist behind the lens, and one of the more important active filmmakers, is his ability to linger on such moments a stain of nail polish on a hardwood floor or a static shot of a playground in the rain while making such snapshots appear fleeting. Different shot after shot appears briefly, he lets us soak it in, and then it's gone. Perhaps no other director working today can capture the natural beauty around us, and transfigure that sublimity so effortlessly in single flashes.
Of course, like some other reviewers on this site have mentioned, nearly two and a half hours of hot flashes is tiring and demands something else to alleviate it from monotony. To paraphrase Samuel Johnson on "Paradise Lost," no one would wish this thing ran any longer. It's all good to tell a story visually, and nothing wrong for a film to run long if it can sustain it, but each "moment" captures the same feelings over and over again i.e. loneliness, longing, and despair, or what is essentially the struggle to overcome desperation. With a story of such linear decline, then, there is little else besides all the same emotions washing over us until one is totally subsumed in bleak numbness. When there is a break, like a baseball game, the result is more absurd Beat Takeshi irony than serene Kore-eda sobriety. While each shot might be different here, since we know the plot can only really head in one direction, Kore-eda's latest then suffers from too long a running time to sustain the unchanging essence of his film. The repetitive tone and tempo might be the point, sure, but is rather pointless when the ideas are all the same.
This chief fault keeps this film from becoming a mark on the director's canon, but "Nobody Knows" is still filled with those pretty important ideas. As some critics have pointed out, the film is mitigated by a sense of anger that this was in fact a real-life event, but Kore-eda's treatment is what distinguishes his piece from an enraged social tract like, say, Paul Greengrass's "Bloody Sunday." Despite this sense of anger (Kore-eda has said in interviews that his parents were largely absent in his youth as well) the film is nearly absent of sentimentality (nearly, except for the ending). A Japanese obsession with cuteness still remains, but the film is thankfully more realistic in portraying emotions; the kids look at their misfortunes with a level eye, and the protagonist Akira snaps at his siblings from frustration on a couple occasions. This might be a good spot to mention the excellent job by Yuya Yagira, who's bravura and remarkably detailed physical performance (really extraordinary for his age) here might mean he's Japan's coming of Haley Joel. His real variety in emotion is a welcome contrast, as such sweet monochromatism is too often a problem concerning films that deal with children in bleak circumstances (Isao Takahata's consistently, cloyingly sweet lead characters in "Grave of the Fireflies" come quickly to mind).
Kore-eda's insistence that his characters remain pure and unsullied is another reason why this film on innocence betrayed is made more poignant. He illustrates this loss with images, but through what is not shown as well. Despite the fact that the family owns a television but not once watches it, for example. He concedes video games to Akira and his friends, but Kore-eda's emphasis is clearly on the organicism of youth and the desire that all kids deep down would rather engage in painting or botany than watch the boob tube. It's the adults in this world who are selfish, and yet through their negligence are only too willing to shuffle off these kids to that same self-importance. But nobody knows, or nobody will know, or nobody wants to know; to do so would be to stick out one's neck for someone and stop smothering the pet dog. Undoubtedly a bit unfair, but effectively presented nonetheless.
In other words, this isn't some art-house Ken Loach social tract; Kore-eda makes sure his ideas are all right there, but he doesn't pretentiously spell them out. The audience needs to work, even if the length of the film ensures that they'll be putting in some unnecessary overtime.
Of course, like some other reviewers on this site have mentioned, nearly two and a half hours of hot flashes is tiring and demands something else to alleviate it from monotony. To paraphrase Samuel Johnson on "Paradise Lost," no one would wish this thing ran any longer. It's all good to tell a story visually, and nothing wrong for a film to run long if it can sustain it, but each "moment" captures the same feelings over and over again i.e. loneliness, longing, and despair, or what is essentially the struggle to overcome desperation. With a story of such linear decline, then, there is little else besides all the same emotions washing over us until one is totally subsumed in bleak numbness. When there is a break, like a baseball game, the result is more absurd Beat Takeshi irony than serene Kore-eda sobriety. While each shot might be different here, since we know the plot can only really head in one direction, Kore-eda's latest then suffers from too long a running time to sustain the unchanging essence of his film. The repetitive tone and tempo might be the point, sure, but is rather pointless when the ideas are all the same.
This chief fault keeps this film from becoming a mark on the director's canon, but "Nobody Knows" is still filled with those pretty important ideas. As some critics have pointed out, the film is mitigated by a sense of anger that this was in fact a real-life event, but Kore-eda's treatment is what distinguishes his piece from an enraged social tract like, say, Paul Greengrass's "Bloody Sunday." Despite this sense of anger (Kore-eda has said in interviews that his parents were largely absent in his youth as well) the film is nearly absent of sentimentality (nearly, except for the ending). A Japanese obsession with cuteness still remains, but the film is thankfully more realistic in portraying emotions; the kids look at their misfortunes with a level eye, and the protagonist Akira snaps at his siblings from frustration on a couple occasions. This might be a good spot to mention the excellent job by Yuya Yagira, who's bravura and remarkably detailed physical performance (really extraordinary for his age) here might mean he's Japan's coming of Haley Joel. His real variety in emotion is a welcome contrast, as such sweet monochromatism is too often a problem concerning films that deal with children in bleak circumstances (Isao Takahata's consistently, cloyingly sweet lead characters in "Grave of the Fireflies" come quickly to mind).
Kore-eda's insistence that his characters remain pure and unsullied is another reason why this film on innocence betrayed is made more poignant. He illustrates this loss with images, but through what is not shown as well. Despite the fact that the family owns a television but not once watches it, for example. He concedes video games to Akira and his friends, but Kore-eda's emphasis is clearly on the organicism of youth and the desire that all kids deep down would rather engage in painting or botany than watch the boob tube. It's the adults in this world who are selfish, and yet through their negligence are only too willing to shuffle off these kids to that same self-importance. But nobody knows, or nobody will know, or nobody wants to know; to do so would be to stick out one's neck for someone and stop smothering the pet dog. Undoubtedly a bit unfair, but effectively presented nonetheless.
In other words, this isn't some art-house Ken Loach social tract; Kore-eda makes sure his ideas are all right there, but he doesn't pretentiously spell them out. The audience needs to work, even if the length of the film ensures that they'll be putting in some unnecessary overtime.