Shoplifters
Directed by Hirokazu Kore-eda
Starring Lily Franky, Sakura Ando, Kairi Jo, Mayu Matsuoka
Reviewed by Michael Dalton
[rating: 5/5]
It seems academic now to say, but I will, that if there is a contemporary Japanese director who is a worthy successor to the great Yasujiro Ozu, it must be Hirokazu Kore-eda. Ozu’s concerns, certainly in his glory period, were always the same. It was the family that mattered to him, its inner workings and turmoils and finally marital happiness. Reworking a similar template again and again, Ozu kept his camera still and often at a low angle so that along with the characters we gazed upward at the patriarch or matriarch. He loved the investigative element of storytelling, the analysis of relations. Kore-eda maintains the approach. Inarguably he lets his camera move more freely and his basic sensibilities are the same but he differs from Ozu in that he locks surprises and secrets into his narrative. With Ozu the surprise, and it was always gentle, was unexpected reaction, but with Kore-eda the revelations are more startling. Consider his 2008 drama Still Walking that told the story of a family that reunite every year to commemorate the tragic death of the eldest child. Set in the glorious countryside of Kanagawa, it rolls along as you expect and Kore-eda casts an intimate spell over the proceedings until the day is upended by an unexpected arrival. In his new film Shoplifters, again family dynamics are central but the effect is different, more astounding. It’s a sly film, beautifully acted, profound, and deeply moving.
Set in Tokyo, The Shibata family lives in what amounts to little more than a shack. Osamu (Lily Franky) breaks his ankle while at work on a construction site and happily stays home to recuperate. His wife Nobuyo (Sakura Ando) sweats in a laundrette and helps herself to whatever she finds in the pockets, their son Shota (Kairi Jo) doesn’t attend school (his smarts come from day to day life), and Aki (Mayu Matsuoka) works in a fluro drenched strip club while family matriarch Hatsue (Kirin Kiki) tends to their cramped dwelling and visits her former in-laws (her husband died years before) from whom she accepts money. Osamu, an ace at making ends meet dishonestly, has taught Shota to shoplift and one night on the way home they notice a young girl, alone and cold, on the balcony of an apartment. They’ve seen her there before and convinced she’s neglected, they take her home and make her a member of the family. Her name is Yuri (Miyu Sasaki), she is almost mute, and bears scars that are clearly the result of abuse.
The general theme running through this remarkable film is the very essence of family, how we come to be, and embedded deeply, how glorious it would be if only we could choose our own. Kore-eda never goes for the easy avenue. Startlingly honest, what you’ll see here (and I urge you to see this award winner before it exits our cinemas) is a genuinely realistic portrait of a family created in the strangest way and then clarified as a glittering example of eclectic souls bound together by bonds that run deeper than blood. One of the many debates Kore-eda raises here is wrapped in their newest family member Yuri. Of course they’ve broken the law by taking the child but watch how long it takes for the little girl’s parents to report her missing. When they see the news report The Shibatas panic and cut her hair. Even in moments like this, Kore-eda underpins the action with intimacy. Watch this film. The reshaping, the remodelling, and the reawakening of this family unit is unlike anything you’ll see in cinemas this year. Society may have forgotten about them. You never will.
