Kirschblüten - Hanami

I can't begin to describe how much this film moved me. After nearly losing my spouse, best friend and soul mate, I could relate to the crushing emotions of both Trudi and Rudi. Life stands still when you're faced with the realization of living without that person.

In 2009 my husband was diagnosed with cancer, and it crushed me. The way Trudi tried to hide her tears, how she couldn't sleep or eat, and her painful realization that each moment with him might be the last were things I experienced firsthand. I can't imagine the added of burden of trying to keep it from him and act as if nothing were wrong. I failed miserably as a strong, supportive caretaker.

Many of the things Rudi went through were similar to what I imagined my life would become if he didn't make it. One of the things that really struck me was the portrayal of how seemingly mundane, everyday events become vivid and painful reminders of what was and what you desperately wish you still had.

A beautiful movie, a work of art.

Discovering the essence of the companion, family, friends and others is the challenge posed by the story.

The movie takes you to geographical places you might never been before, as well as into your inside and your persona.

Great to reflect while feeling lost in both places and enjoying a work of art.

You will go as far away as Tokyo and as deep inside as your more basic understanding of human beings.

The unit of the story is a family at a moment of crises.

Some may see this story as a sequence of complains. But it can also be seen as stepping stones in the road to happiness.

It stresses the relevance of how taking good care of ourselves is the beginning of taking others feelings into consideration.

Some might have the feeling of not having a complete set of tools to approximate of understanding others essence, and feel compelled to change and develop them.

In syntheses the play depicts the sharp contrast in the two faces of the coin of life the one that gets engulfed by routine and the one that consciously chose to live on the other side seeking truth in the road of simplicity.

A German director Doris Dorrie's third film in her trilogy on Japan, Cherry Blossoms, is an exquisite, absorbing and deeply moving meditation on life, death, loss, loneliness and grief.

Talking about old parents with alienated and indifferent descendants, the first half of the film may remind the audience of Yasujiro Ozu's film made in 1953, Tokyo Monogatari. The six hugging-or-massage (by family members and strangers) scenes and the father's harmonious relationships with his daughter's girlfriend and a Japanese girl successfully highlight the poor relationship between the father and his children.

The second half in which the main character embarks on a reflective journey in search of traces of the deceased love captures the mood of Lost in Translation and Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles. The cultural shock experienced also makes the film distinguishable from Under the Sand.

Cherry blossoms and Mount Fuji symbolize the fleeting and unpredictable nature of life. The film delivers a message that we should treasure the people around us, pursue our dreams and enjoy life to the full so that we will have no regrets. Besides, it is also about the main character's inability to communicate with not only the dead, but also the living family members. Butoh, a Japanese dance, helps people to feel and establish connections with others. What's more, the audience can pay attention to the symbolic meaning of the drawings at the beginning of the film and the photos at the end.

The cinematographer and the composer also succeed in evoking different tones from several shooting locations in Germany and Japan. The suburbs contrast sharply with the hustle and bustle of city life. Apart from the poetic and stunning visual images and the Japanese music playing upon the audience's heartstrings, the characters are so lifelike that the audience will care about what happen to them.

On the whole, although Cherry Blossoms is a bit too long, without emotional bludgeoning or syrupy manipulation, it is a little road movie producing emotional resonance and reflective ripples in a whisper.

I will not say 'Cherry Bloosoms' perfectly flawless. The first half of the movie is a bit too plain, beautiful though. It is easy for audience to find traces of 'Tokyo Story' (Ozu's 1953 work) in the film. The filmmaker attempted a large amount of 'pillow shot'. Audience may feel like she was trying to replicate what Ozu did. It may not be a bad idea,especially young generation nowadays has not even spent a minute on watching old films like Ozu's work. But to me, 'Tokyo Story' is too perfect, and the movie I am talking now is not anywhere near it in the case when both of them are critiquing the relationship between parents and grown-up children.

Yet I did experience a sublime journey throughout the course of this beautiful film. What really moved me is the second half of the movie- its delicate description on 'mourning', on how a man copes with the mourning with all kinds of valuable memories of the dead. Beyond doubt the filmmaker did a great work on conveying the feeling of loss. The character'Yu' is impressive enough I still thought of her face that night after watching the movie. She is not the kind of girl with a beautiful face. We the audiences know nearly nothing about the character, but she really hit my heart in a deep way. She is lonely and sad, easily grabs the heart of audiences.Thanks to the soundtrack also. The film is soft, slow, sad, but at the same time it taught me a lesson. To treasure every single person besides me, and to pursue what really matters to me, as can life be ever predicted.

If you would've told me prior to seeing this that I would fall head-over-heels for a film that's about a frustrated Bavarian Butoh dancer, with a tale of homelessness, loneliness, a pink telephone, cabbage rolls…and recycling all in the mix, I'd have laughed out loud.

In fact, I did laugh throughout the course of this wonderful, delicate film (that has the most selfish progeny since "King Lear"). In the opening scene a wife tells a physician, "My husband doesn't really care much for adventure," and, boy, does he have treat—and a trial—in store for him. But so does the audience.

The film's heart is about grief and how we can never really prepare for it. "I'd like my ashes scattered upon the sea," a spouse says to his partner. Fearfully, she says, "Why do you say that now?" And why indeed since we can never plan our end and its circumstances? It takes a young, marginally sane street performer, to tell us exactly what the Great Mystery is all about.

And the use of stunning images from nature, as well as the contorted gestures of Butoh theater…and the equally contorted emotions from a family unaware of who the others are that this film brims over with so many rewards that it can be enjoyed over and over again.

The family dynamics are almost farcical which keep the weight of the subject matter from spilling over into despair. And while the central character's own despair is the subject of the film, it's thrilling to watch him find his way out of it.

Exceptional performances, shimmering cinematography, a truly great film.