Still Walking has
a modesty that’s apt to be mistaken for slightness, as Hirokazu Kore-eda’s (After Life, Nobody Knows) tale of a day-and-night familial reunion has such a patient,
tranquil surface that it’s easy to overlook the complex interpersonal dynamics
at play. Indebted to the domestic-strife dramas of both Ozu and Naruse,
Kore-eda’s latest assembles two generations of the Yokoyama clan on the
anniversary of the oldest son’s death, a wound that’s yet to heal and which
proves the most pressing (though hardly the only) cause of both adults and
children’s anger, resentment and sorrow. With the action confined to the
parents’ cramped living quarters, Kore-eda creates an affecting claustrophobia
in tune with the oppressive emotions stifling his characters. While his
direction can at times be a tad wooden and inexpressive, his avoidance of overt
flourishes – save for a clunky bit of butterfly symbolism – nonetheless
maintains primary focus on his subtly simmering conflicts. The director neither
wholly condemns nor absolves of responsibility any of his subjects, all of whom
are burdened by their own unrealized expectations for others. The family’s
nurturing mother (a wonderful Kirin Kiki) is prone to blunt, callous,
judgmental asides about her kids, and the surviving son’s (Horoshi Abe) suppressed
fury at his pompous retired doctor father – who disapproves of his offspring’s
non-medical profession – is complicated by his own absence of a backbone. Still Walking can be a tad obvious in
laying out its tangled relationships but its sincere consideration of its
characters’ longing for acceptance and approval – as well as its pinpoint
accumulation of household and cooking details – rings true, right up to a
conclusion that wordlessly expresses the inextricable if often unwanted
influence parents have on their progeny.
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