LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON (Soshite Chichi Ni Naru) B+
Japan (120 mi) 2013
d: Hirokazu Kore-eda Official site [Japan] Trailer
This is a film that reaches across international barriers,
becoming as much a brilliant family drama in the understated style of Japanese
filmmaker Yasujirō Ozu, yet may also be seen reflected in the gentle lyricism
of an early Spielberg movie, an American director that headed the Cannes Jury
that awarded this film a Jury Prize as the 3rd best film in competition. Like Ozu, Kore-eda returns again and again to
examine the minutia of Japanese family life, focusing on issues of abandonment
and separation, along with themes of divorce and death that are prevalent in
many of his films. This film also
examines issues of class, morality, and the clash between capitalism and
traditional values, where one questions the increasingly competitive nature of
entrance standards for quality primary schools.
Early in this film we see a family and their child interviewed for one
of the more elite schools, where we quickly learn the child was prepped for the
occasion, and even fictionalized some of his answers to create a better
impression. Nonetheless, this gives us a
window of insight into this family, when a successful Tokyo architect Ryota (Masaharu
Fukuyama, also a singer/songwriter) and his wife Midori (Machiko Ono) are asked
which parent their 6-year old son Keita (Keita Ninomiya) actually favors, with
Ryota suggesting he has the kind and gentle disposition of his mother. Following the family at home in their modern
but sterile apartment, without anything out of place, we see the aggressive
determination Ryota displays at work, always staying late and working on weekends,
meticulously planning his family’s activities, including rigid demands for
Keita to help prepare him for a highly successful future. Ryota expresses traditional Japanese ideals,
which include hard work, discipline, and fierce competitiveness, where he’s
somewhat perplexed and disappointed that his son lacks the aggressive drive he
hoped for, where instead he’s shy, introverted, and compassionate, lacking the
cutthroat instincts of his father who is overworked and mostly absent from
home, maintaining an emotional distance to his son.
Kore-eda originally intended to become a novelist, which may
explain why his films have such an unusual depth and curiously explorative
quality about them, where in many ways the completely unsentimentalized style
feels like documentary exposé’s, especially NOBODY KNOWS (2004), a story of
parental abandonment based on a real life incident, the Sugamo child abandonment case, when a
mother irresponsibly deserted her four children who were smuggled into a Tokyo
apartment and then left alone for nine months to survive on their own. The searing humanity on display results from
such tragic, near inexplicable misfortune.
Similarly, Ryota’s plans are shattered by a single phone call from a
hospital reporting there was a mix-up at the hospital when Keita was born, that
another family is raising their biological son who was accidentally switched at
birth, detected by a standard blood test needed for primary school. The hospital brings the two families
together, where Yudai (Lily Franky) and Yukari (Yōko Maki), who run a small
appliance shop in a rundown working class neighborhood, living in the cramped
quarters above the shop, have been raising their biological son Ryusei (Shôgen
Hwang), and have actually had two more children since then. While the hospital lawyers suggest the
parents usually switch back to their biological parents in almost all
instances, they initially recommend visits, followed by sleepovers, weekends,
and then longer visits, all in an attempt to make the adjustment as painless
and as natural as possible. Meanwhile,
Ryota enlists the aid of a fellow classmate who is a high priced lawyer, and
the two families sue the hospital, while Yudai amusingly splurges on food every
chance he gets during the meetings, sending the hospital the bill. But Ryota has other intentions as well,
believing Ryusei’s poor standard of living is so compromised that both children
would be better served living in their wealth and extravagance. Certainly initially, Yudai doesn’t represent
the traditional standard for success, as he tends to be lazy and easily
distracted, always preferring to put things off for another day, where he
doesn’t exhibit even a hint of the dedication and discipline shown by
Ryota. But he spends all his available
time playing with the kids, where his family doesn’t have all the rules for
children to follow, where they’re not overly obedient or overworked from all
the pressures their parents put them under, as instead they freely run around
and actually enjoy childhood.
The real key here is Ryota’s arrogance, as he looks down on
everyone who doesn’t have his economic advantages, including his own family,
where making sacrifices means working harder and longer hours, which in his
view is taking care of his family. Of
course it leaves Midori as the sole nurturer and provider for Keita, and she’s
perfectly comfortable if he’s a quiet and sensitive child without an ambitious
streak. He’s an adorable child, and as
is the case in most Kore-eda films with children, they are notorious scene
stealers just by acting naturally. While
the film tends to focus on the two fathers, both openly suspicious of one
another, whose manner couldn’t be more opposite, the two mothers actually get
along and share helpful information about their kids, as they still feel
attached to the kids they’ve raised since birth, and are concerned about this
huge undertaking they’re going through.
Both families are hugely supportive of the new arrivals, and it feels
only a matter of time before an exchange is made. Midori, on the other hand, is fiercely
against the idea, as Keita is her son, where there is nothing remotely as close
as a mother’s bond with her child, especially one she feels takes after her,
and she’s afraid of losing him. Ryota on
the other hand is going by the book, doing what is expected, providing
leadership for this new adjustment, addressing the situation much as he would a
work project. In one of the more
extraordinary moments, Midori is on the train with Keita, where she’s so fed up
with her husband’s stubborn resistance that she actually considers running away
with him, returning back home with her family where they could stay together. But Keita is not the kind of kid that rocks
the boat, and he quickly realizes that running away is not what all these new
family visits are all about. Instead
he’s developing an appreciation for just being a kid, where now he doesn’t have
to pick up after himself every second of the day, as he’s allowed to make a
mess, or play with other kids and just have fun. In traditional Japanese style, Yudai has
communal baths with his children, who also sleep communally, and he has unique
repair skills to fix broken down toys, where he gets them up and working again,
like valued members of the family, while Ryota would simply buy another
one.
Typical of Kore-eda, the film is an accumulation of small
moments, divided into chapters by seasons, covering a full year, beautifully
captured by Mikaya Takimoto’s artful camerawork and the use of Bach’s Goldberg
Variations, Bach
- Goldberg Variations: Aria (Glenn Gould) - YouTube (2:54), evoking a range
of moods from profoundly contemplative to frenetically energetic. The children prove to be an interesting study
in contrasts, where Ryusei is a bundle of energy and cheerful enthusiasm,
almost always smiling, where he’s not at all used to being quiet or following
rules, and refuses to call his new parents mom and dad, while the overly shy
Keita slowly blends into the hustle and bustle of a larger family unit, where
Yukari is the driving force out of necessity, as otherwise nothing would ever
get done. Midori, on the other hand, assumes
the traditional submissive posture in a patriarchal society, where in a rare
visit to his father and stepmother, we learn Ryota’s father also maintained an
emotional distance while assuming the role of a domineering authority figure,
literally continuing a cycle of parental abuse through neglect. Kore-eda is an exceedingly patient filmmaker
that takes his time showing how different people construct their own lives,
where he’s extremely patient with children and has developed especially subtle
observational skills, where the audience becomes extremely familiar with each
of the characters, their unique habits, and the changing perspectives they must
adapt to. Kore-eda creates such richly
compelling scenes, where the film’s complexity is largely due to the depth of
character that he explores. The
emotional rigidity of Ryota is slowly exposed, where the orderly discipline he
imposes on his family is a self-constructed veneer protecting his own
underlying vulnerability. Yudai, for
instance, spends more time with Keita in just a few months than Ryota will all
year, suggesting fatherhood, from a child’s view, is all about spending time
together. This certainly raises
questions about the professional elite who work hard in their profession to
reach the top, where it’s always a balancing act finding family time. The final scenes together of Ryota and Keita
are truly moving, and really not like anything else in modern cinema due to
this uniquely gifted director’s ability to gain such rare insight into a child’s
character.
