Shoplifters (2018)
Directed by Hirokazu
Kore-eda
Magnolia Pictures,
121 minutes, (Rated R for brief nudity and sexual situations)
In Japanese with
subtitles
★★★★
Shoplifters is a
classic "small" film, but this one captured the Palme d'Or at Cannes.
In a quiet and unpretentious way, director Hirokazu Kore-eda raises socially
contentious questions whose answers are ambiguous.
One of these is the split between absolute and situational
ethics. Should we always adhere to a "thou shalt not steal" ethos, or
are there situations in which it's justifiable? It's easy to assert the first,
but if your family was desperate, would you steal to help? If you answer
"yes" to that, you face the central problem of situational ethics.
Where is the border between moral and immoral? Is it okay to steal from a
corporate giant such as Walmart, but wrong to filch from a mom and pop store?
Let's up the ante. What would you do if you found a cut, bruised,
and weeping five-year-old in a dumpster? No one has reported her missing, though
there is a nearby apartment from which you've heard shouts, slaps, and screams.
The little girl slides into the rhythms of your family. Would you be tempted to
"adopt" her as your own? How about a boy you find abandoned in a car?
Or a grandmother whose biological family wants her out of the way? All of this is
fodder for the bigger question of what makes a family. As Nobuyu, the surrogate
female head of household rhetorically asks at a key moment in the film, "Giving
birth automatically makes you a mother?"
Throw in some hand-to-mouth poverty and you've got quite a
rice pot full of sticky ethical conundrums. The film's very title tells you
that the "family" relies upon unorthodox ways to make ends meet. Most
visitors to Japan see a neat and prosperous nation, but this film's principals are
squatting in a section of Tokyo analogous to U.S. swamp poverty. Their hovel–just
a few rooms in which everything from cooking to sleeping to sex occur–is chock
a block with things useful and not: cooking pots, baskets, noodle bowls,
scavenged junk, and pilfered items awaiting black market sales. Space is so
cramped that when bedrolls pads are laid out, all six sleep in a big lump.
The occupants are:
·
Osamu Shibata (Lily Frank), an inept
construction worker and perhaps not overly bright paterfamilias
·
Osamu's wife, Nobuyo (Sakura Ando), who toils in
a laundry
·
12-year-old Shota (Kairi Jō), who has learned
his "father's" shoplifting skills and hand signals
·
5-year-old Yuri, posing as "Lin," who
is learning the family trade from her "brother"
·
Aki (Mayu Matsuoka), the "big sister"
role model, though she earns money in an R-rated peep show/sex club by
displaying her beautiful face and ample cleavage
·
Hatsue (Kirin Kiki), an elderly woman who
extorts money from her biological family under surprising pretenses
Can such a unit bond? One of the film's subthemes concerns
itself with whether Shota can bring himself to call Osamu "dad."
Shota is an intelligent lad and he's pretty aware that shoplifting may be
Osamu's greatest talent, just as he's cognizant that he and Nobuyo really care
about him. But can a "father" sanction teaching a 5-year-old to
steal? And, of course, there's the whole child snatching issue. Or, is it
really "rescuing" unwanted and kids? Credit goes to Hirokazu for
giving a new twist to the presumption that biology and parenthood are
synonymous. He forces us to consider whether a child is an object that can be
"owned."
Surrender to this film's Japanese aesthetics. In Western
films, one usually gets to know characters early on, but their motives are
suspect. A lot of Japanese cinema is the opposite. In Shoplifting we know the motive (survival) from the start, but it
takes time to figure out how everyone is connected. This means it's
"slow" film by Western standards–more atmosphere than action. In many
cases, though, the film's mundaneness is a virtue. It is rare to see screen families
portraying everyday life, especially if it centers on creative foraging such as
that in Shoplifting. The film's
pacing is difficult at first, but the slow-to-reveal back-stories somehow makes
us care more deeply about each.
Even if you don't speak a word of Japanese you can tell you
are witnessing fine performances. Kirin Kiki is superb as a chameleon who is
the affectionate grandmother to the Shibata clan, but a calculating grifter
when dealing with her son and his second wife. Hers is the sort of performance
that would gain a best supporting actress nomination were she acting in
English. It's also hard to take your eyes off Kairi Jō (Shota). He is a
beautiful child with eyes that shine with fierceness and determination.
For me, though, Sakura Ando was the most memorable of all.
In the film (though less so off-screen), she bore a physical resemblance to
Sandra Oh. Ando's performance was subtle, but she conveyed a lot of information
through a crinkly smile or a taut sad face. Hers is further proof that you need
not wail like an arena rock star to get a point across.
I don't know if Shoplifters
will be nominated for a best foreign film Oscar. It's certainly worthy of
consideration. I highly recommend you seek out this film. I suspect it will be
a while before it shows up online and it's a movie you'd not wish to miss.
Rob Weir
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