Life is like an undercurrent

Carolyn 2022-04-23 07:03:58

This is a very clever movie. Like four or two pieces of money, the two elders, the three siblings, and the complicated relationships within their respective families were brought out. The title of the film means "go on", which means that the director intends to reveal the driving force and the basic pattern of this life that keeps the family going. This consists of a central event, the death of the firstborn. But the title does not mention this core at all, and chooses to start with the dialogue between the mother and daughter about radishes in the kitchen. Mother is a hard-working woman, good at cooking, caring for her children, and considerate of her husband. The daughter is very good at pleasing people, and her words are particularly nice, but she is only sloppy. The shot of the husband is dark and away from the kitchen, suggesting that his character is dull and weird, but he doesn't ask about housework and has a fascinated self-esteem for his work. As soon as he left the house, his camera became bright and brisk. In just three or four minutes, the relationship and characters of the three people were extremely clear. If the kitchen is the first key scene set by Hirokazu Eda, then the seaside is undoubtedly the second. The father's quiet gaze under the flyover, and the seaside when the title credits appear, all hint at this scene. The youngest son's family entered the town as outsiders. They seemed to be separated and had their own pace of life and contradictions: the relationship between husband and wife in this family was weird. It was obvious that the son looked very old, but the wife seemed to be It was the first time I saw my in-laws so nervous; it seemed that they were father and son, but the little boy was not so close to many, and the respect between them made people wonder. What caused the gap between the old mother and the old man? What stopped the old man from walking towards the seaside? What brought this weird family of young sons into town? It all happens in the first eight minutes of the movie. I have to applaud the director.
In addition to the extremely concise way of outlining the characters, the shots of Hirokazu Koreeda are also very interesting. There are several features that can be mentioned. First, there are many close-ups of the hands in domestic labor behaviors, such as the mother washing radishes and the younger son peeling corn kernels. In the works of Hirokazu Koeda, it seems to represent a certain family religious ritual. He undoubtedly occupies a central position in his family films. One of the old man's complaints in the film is very interesting. He said, I earned this family with money, so why are the children called grandma's house instead of grandpa's? Anyone who has seen the film must know the answer by heart.
The second is the medium shot fixed shots and the close-up shots of certain body parts during the dialogue. Unlike common over-the-shoulder shots, it is Hirokazu-eda who prefers a fixed medium shot + several close-up or one-way shots when dealing with film dialogue. This combination makes the dialogue more contextual. It does not only focus on the speaker and what he said, but also makes it possible to interrupt the dialogue at any time. In fact, it is more in line with the real daily dialogue. We're always just talking, and then suddenly interrupted by another person, another topic, and the speaker's silence isn't so embarrassing at all, it can still continue throughout the shot. Sometimes a close-up will give a person unrelated to the topic, what the person is doing and thinking. This treatment is also very interesting, because a conversation is not always listened to with all the attention.
The third is that the shots in this film themselves have a plot connection, like the ruts of a tank, one pressing on the other. It's Hirokazu-eda's films that often have fixed-screen shots, sometimes it's just the scheduling of the scene, and sometimes it indicates the direction of the next shot. For example, in the scene where the old man, the youngest son, and the little boy walked towards the beach, one shot stopped when they reached the overpass. The three people passed the camera in turn, looked to the right of the screen, and then walked onto the overpass one after another. The freeze-frame shot of the flyover is where they will go next. For example, there is a shot from the courtyard to the living room to the eldest son's spiritual platform. This is the first time his photo has officially appeared, but it is far away and blocked by the surrounding decorations. This is very typical of Hirokazu Kore-eda's theming approach. He never gives things directly to the audience, but is blocked by means of light and shade, building structure, sound and picture separation and other means. The death of the eldest son, as the core event affecting the whole family, is also slowly filled in in this side-by-side manner: his occupation, his character, his relationship with his parents and siblings, his drowning, the people he rescued ...sometimes, this lens also reveals the power relations and personalities of the characters. There is a scene of the old man taking a bath in the bathroom, and the old mother's voice rang outside, saying why she bought the record of that song: because her husband once sang it to the little three. The camera has never been given to the old mother, we can only see the expression of the old man, embarrassed and proud. It was Hirokazu Koreeda who presented the contradiction between the two of them, and stingily only gave the picture to the old man, which also symbolized the basic power relationship between them, which was so subtle. The other shot was the one that surprised me the most. The old mother and the young son with lace in the kitchen late at night were originally a warm mother-son dialogue, typically a medium and long-range fixed shot of Hirokazu Koreeda. But he never thought that the camera would suddenly turn and give the old mother a profile. The light is so ingenious, the dim light hits the face of the tree Lin Xi, the old actor, and the half-frame darkness behind her makes people feel a little cool in the heart: the old mother will never allow her excellent, The eldest son, who was supposed to inherit the family business, was easily forgotten, and it was even more unbearable. The life of the fat man whose life was exchanged for her most beloved child was so unbearable. Choosing not to forget is the basic driving force of the old mother's life, and it is also her belief that drives the rest of the family and cannot be forgotten. Her preference for the eldest son made her daughter resentful, her dominance over her family made the old man disdain, and her hidden boundaries to her own family made her new daughter-in-law angry.
If it is said that the obsession with life and death in "The Light of Magic" and "The Next Stop, Heaven" is a kind of puzzlement, then what is presented in "Never Stop Walking" is more of a choice or choice after understanding. life beliefs. This choice may be intentional, and it is related to the director's increasingly strong and skillful portrayal of characters and his understanding of life. For example, the mother chose not to forget, and chose calm resentment; perhaps unintentional, Propelled by time and plot, translated by generations of family memories.

View more about Still Walking reviews

Extended Reading

Still Walking quotes

  • Yukari Yokoyama: Even when they die, people don't really go away. Your father's here, right inside you.

  • Kyohei Yokoyama: That useless piece of trash. Why'd my son have to save him? There were plenty of others.

    Ryota Yokoyama: Please don't call him useless and trash in front of the kids.