Tokyo Sonata's Modern Family

by: Living Liberally

Thu Mar 19, 2009 at 16:15



Screening Liberally Big Picture
by Jen Johnson

In Kiyoshi Kurosawa's new film, Tokyo Sonata, he presents timely and interesting ideas about identity in the modern world in a way that is at times compelling and complex, but at others overwrought and unclear.

The film focuses on the four members of the middle class Sasaki family: the father, Ryuhei (played by Teruyuki Kagawa), his wife Megumi (played by Kyoko Koizumi), and their two sons, Takashi and Kenji (played by YĆ» Koyanagi and Inowaki Kai). In the opening minutes of the film, Ryuhei finds himself suddenly unemployed after a meeting with the boss.  Unsure of what to do, he keeps this from his wife, getting dressed for work the next day and joining the stream of businesspeople walking toward the city.  He soon finds that he is not alone when he runs into an old colleague who is also keeping his family in the dark.

The other members of his family embark on difficult journeys of their own: The younger son, Kenji, uses his lunch money to take the piano lessons expressly forbidden by his father, while Takashi joins the U.S. army.  Megumi's internal grappling slowly builds, culminating in some surprising actions. Their troubles are similar, and achingly so because they rarely intersect.

Living Liberally :: Tokyo Sonata's Modern Family
Ryuhei and Megumi both struggle to understand themselves outside their societal positions: Ryuhei as businessman, and Megumi as housewife. Ryuhei has become so myopic, so dependent on defining himself by his previous title that he is unable tell a job interviewer what his skills are. When provoked, he further equates himself to his job by simply giving his title at his old company.

Ryuhei is not simply attempting to find work, but to redefine himself. Without titles and the requirements and social protocols that accompany them, Ryuhei and Megumi are uncertain how to live. Through their stories, Kurosawa leads us to wonder whether the roles created by a rigidly structured capitalist culture supplant our own needs and desires.

The generational differences in the characters' searches for identity provide a thought-provoking evaluation of individuality in modern society: While their parents toil to understand themselves in absence of social position, Takashi and Kenji attempt to find fulfillment by following their instincts. Their most obvious obstacle is their father, who forbids them both from pursuing their goals.  In order to explore their identities, then, they must question his authority. Though they fight against the expected and seemingly secure path, both boys succeed in their personal struggles in ways that their parents do not, suggesting that personal freedom is valuable and worth fighting for: If we don't want our job to define us, we must define our job, our life.

The philosophy of justified rebellion is further associated with Kenji's generation when his classmates call him "awesome" after he challenges their teacher for unfairly punishing him.  Ryuhei's desire to maintain the status quo is equally reflected in his generation, through recurring images of suited men in places they do not usually belong.

Kurosawa falls short of identifying the origin of or solution for the problems of Ryuhei and Megumi, and even offers contradictory ideas.  For example, while it is clear that the surge in unemployment is due to cost-cutting and outsourcing on the part of corporations, it is unclear whether Ryuhei's attempts to find a new job comparable to his old one are exhaustive. The disastrous interview in which he refuses to identify his skills takes place after he refuses work in the service sector from the unemployment office. Yet the interview takes place in a sleek corporate boardroom.  Therefore, while his poor performance at the interview shows us that he is confused about his identity, it also makes him appear apathetic about finding a new job. Such a representation validates arguments that joblessness is intimately linked to personal responsibility - a view that is at odds with the film's message in many other instances.

Many of Kurosawa's images are devastatingly poignant or delightfully subtle, supporting his central themes with a visual maturity often lacking in modern cinema. This is a critical achievement for a film about internal struggles and taciturn relationships. Kurosawa trusts the audience a great deal by asking them to understand complex ideas using silent clues: a missed greeting; the quiet dinner table; a pause near the pedestrian traffic.

Yet at times he betrays this trust, by editing Ryuhei and Megumi's stories in tandem to blatantly present similarities, by presenting painfully lengthy scenes showcasing their despair, by inserting overdramatic dialogue. These exaggerations not only mistrust the audience; they conflict with the beautifully restrained tone of most of the film.

With compelling content and often impeccable cinematic choices, Tokyo Sonata aims to be a masterpiece - so when it does fall short, it is jarring and disappointing.


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