Review: Still Walking

Directed by: Hirokazu Kore-eda

Written by: Hirokazu Kore-eda

Starring: Hiroshi Abe, Yui Natsukawa, Kazuya Takahashi, Shohei Tanaka, Susumu Terajima

Rating: [4.5/5]

While nice to say, the expression “Time heals all wounds” does not serve as something absolute because grieving occurs on a step-by-step basis. Something each person undergoes in their own way as the pain they feel gets amplified by different emotions whether it lies in anger or tremendous sadness. Still Walking paints this portrait of a family reeling from a tragic loss and in the commemoration, the resentment right under the surface begins to bubble over. 

Twelve years after the eldest son’s passing, the Yokoyama family gathers together annually in remembrance. The father, Kyoohei (Yoshio Harada) cared deeply for the son who passed, which does not get shared with the remaining two children, Ryota (Hiroshi Abe) and Chinami (You). As they gather on this occasion, Ryota brings his new wife Yukari (Yui Natsukawa) and her son from a previous marriage only amplifying the issues existing in the family. 

As someone who sits as the eldest child in the family the dynamics on display by parents and their expectations of their children gets laid out immaculately in this feature. Definitely a story of the middle child who needs to live up to their older sibling in the eyes of the parents, but in this instance, Ryota needs to do so for a brother who passed away by saving the life of a young boy. This older sibling could be no more of a saint if he wanted to therefore unknowingly continually straining the relationships the parents have with their remaining children and through this narrative, it further needles and prods into this dynamic showing everything these individuals feel but do not normally share. 

As with most Hirokazu Kore-eda films, he refuses to opt into the melodrama of the situation and decides to handle these circumstances with oodles of care and love. Instead of these characters yelling at each other for dramatic effect, they interact as human beings who have pain in their hearts and it appears so elegantly with these characters in such an impactful manner. It allows for a meditation on their grief and perfectly exemplifies what the title suggests of how these conversations take place at the same pace and calmness as a walk. 

While different strands exist in this familial relational web, the one of major focus appears with Ryota and his father, Kyohei. Their dynamic comes with an air of massive disappointment. It nearly aligns with the stereotype of Asian parents and how they view their kid’s success in what job they get and who they bring home to them. Kyohei had this very clear plan of what he wanted his kids to do, which the deceased eldest son exemplified in becoming a doctor. Instead of following this path, Ryota decided he would rather follow his passion for art restoration. That serves as one strike against him and then he decided to marry a divorced woman who already has a child. Safe to say, Ryota does not live up in any way to what his father dreamt up for him, but this feature serves as a journey for this middle child to understand his worth and how it does not necessarily lie in what his father thinks of him. He must live with the aftermath of this tragedy and must chase the ghost of someone no longer with them allowing for resentment to build for him not only with his father but the deceased brother. Something presented quite cogently as Ryota points out they commemorate someone who carried his own flaws and gets crystallized in this moment of selflessness along with other accolades not taking into account what changes Junpei could have made had he lived the last twelve years. 

With this father-son dynamic leading the way, this feature also provides other smaller threads to explore like the dynamic between Chinami and her mother Toshiko (Kirin Kiki). We also see Yukari trying to make the most of this situation by meeting her in-laws and recognizing she does not present the ideal match for what they would want for their son because of her past. Luckily Yukari has such a positive outlook and a kill-them-with-kindness approach that it becomes quite difficult to maintain this animosity aimed at her through looks or small remarks. Having everyone within this small house thus makes this feature feel quite claustrophobic at times. With so much tension simmering between these individuals in a small space means eventually a lid will have to blow but only in the way Kore-eda does in his serene manner. 

Mixed in with all of the drama occurring in this feature, all of it remains rooted in grief and how they decide to manage it through the time they spend together. Commemorating someone that meant so much to everyone makes the ability to move on so difficult even after a decade passing since it occurred. The way these individuals cope with it gets a bit uncomfortable in moments as Kyohei and Toshiko display their dismay even to the point where they take out their pain on the boy Junpei saved. This pain well and truly exists for them but only so much can be excused. 

Adding a tremendous score to this beautifully directed and acted feature, Still Walking serves as yet another banger by Hirokazu Kore-eda. Continuing his run as the most impactful humanist director we have in our modern era, he delivers such a tender and painful film grappling with grief not only for who they lost but what that person could have become with respect to the two remaining children. This feature digs into some hard emotional truths and does so with a gentleness that further explains this takes place in Japan. Well and truly a touching story across the board showing grief at its worst.