Dare mo shiranai

This film was very well received at the latest Telluride Film Festival where I saw it. Based on a true incident it is the story of 4 children,each a child by a different father, abandoned by their mother, and trying to survive in modern Japan on their own. The film is paced wonderfully slow, allowing the viewer to focus on small details that overlay other details. It does not drag at all and has moments of humor mixed with pathos.

The oldest, a son of about 13 or 14, incredibly acted, becomes the parent. He is in transition from becoming the responsible one of the family and a typical kid, but one with real values.

There are moments where a box of tissues are in order. The film ends in a moment of hope mixed with a real desire to know what ultimately happened to them all.

If your local art theater plays it, go watch it. Find it in DVD store if you can. Rent it through your local mega movie renting store if you have to. Everyone has to watch this movie.

As a highly urbanized country, Japan is subjected to constant social problem, more so than other developed country. Hence, often you will have your Japanese movies that reminds us these problems, Tokyo Godfather, Fireworks, etc.

Nobody Knows is one of them from another angle.

Its director likes to use close up on little details like finger nails, shoes, t-shirt collar to tell the audience what kind of situation it is for the victims in the movie. Often we neglect these little details; often we neglect the unfortunate people around us.

Once in a while we have a world disaster, we all jumped in, we all gave our helping hands, we all praised greatly how much help we gave on TV. Comparing and contrast the figures of aids given with other countries, even. Little things, little unfortunate things happened around us, everyday, everywhere, they are all nicely tucked under our lavish mat and those story never told, those needed aid never arrived. Because they have no news value or because helping a few people doesn't gain enough prestige?

Nobody knows, as the title suggest, We never aware of these problems, by our own choice or not. The movie has an unusual slow pace. There is no climax, everything just get worse. Just the those misfortune people nobody knows, their life are not full of excitement, everyday is another to get by, nothing to wish for, nothing to hope for. Nobody Knows depicts the days of these unsounded misfortune. You could have seen the unfortunate events to come. You would have wished they would not come. One by one they came.

The brilliant part, Nobody Knows lets its audiences decide the ending.

Today I went to the pre-screening of "Nobody Knows," a stunningly brilliant film by director Hirokazu Koreeda who also directed the philosophical "After Life."

What if I were a 12 years old boy and left alone to take care of two younger sisters and one younger brother in a big city like Tokyo, and I have to hide them in the apartment so nobody knows about them? That's what I have been thinking when I was watching this film and how the film gets my sympathy for these children. It allows me to experience the ordeal through these children's eyes and the transcending performance by Yuya Yagira, who is the youngest actor ever won the best actor award in the history of Cannes Film Festival.

Director Koreeda allows the camera to take the time to shoot and he never rushes from one scene to the next. He let me observe, let me feel, let me be as close to these children as I possibly can, until I can no longer take it and until I am drowned by the frustration and sadness. I become as helpless as those children, because I simply can not resist the urge to help them. That makes me cry. Through out the film, Koreeda masterfully positioned his lenses to ordinary objects around these children, such as simply a finger, a hand, a stain, a foot, or four empty glasses. But through these zoomed in images, I have no trouble to "see" and "feel" what's going on in the whole picture. And it tells the story in a more profound fashion and more personal way, a story you will never forget, along with those images, sometimes, even the music.

The 12 years old boy is played by Yuya Yagira, who has a haircut like the Japanese animation character. Yagira's outstanding performance is original and remarkable, and simply unforgettable. Through him, you see a premature 12 years old boy who is acting as an adult to take care the other kids, meanwhile, he is still a 12 years old kid, who will just like other kids around his age. That's make this movie can be so hard to watch sometimes, because no matter how hard your heart is, it will be softened by watching his struggle to survive. It's hard to leave this movie with dry eyes.

There is no doubt in my mind that this is the best film I have seen this year.

A mom that should not be a mom.

A kid that wanted to be a kid and is never allowed to be it.

Fantastic acting overall.

A punch in the stomach.

When we are talking about family dramas, Koreeda does it like no other.

"Nobody Knows" is painful to watch. It's a story you won't shake off, depicting the most defenseless of humans -- four young children, the oldest only twelve -- trapped in growing poverty and abandonment. It's a process-narrative of devolution that makes you feel helpless and angry and sad. It's saved from mawkishness by the natural energy of the children playing the roles of the four kids. And if it survives, its not because of its treatment of a social issue so much as for its evocation of the precise details of childhood.

There are two main subjects here. One is criminal neglect: the story is loosely based on events that happened in Tokyo in 1988. The other is the private, often secret, lives of children. Koreeda began as a documentary filmmaker and this seems to have given him exceptional skill in working with people and capturing their natural reactions. The winning, tragic children in "Nobody Knows," four half-siblings with different fathers and the same childish, selfish mother, never seem to be acting and often no doubt aren't. Nonetheless the subtlety of expression in the delicate, mobile, beautiful face of the older boy, young Yûya Yagira, was such that it won him the Best Actor award at Cannes last year.

Also important is Koreeda's gift for detail, his meditative examinations of fingernails, feet, a toy piano, video games, pieces of paper, objects strewn around a room, the hundreds of little soft drink bottles that are everywhere in Japan, plants, dirt, all the small things children see because they're closer to the ground. And the things they accept because they're defenseless and innocent, but also incredibly adaptable.

Akira, who's only ten and whose voice changed during year spent making the movie, is in charge. As their mother's absences become lengthier and the children finally seem to be abandoned for good, money runs out. Akira is captain of a sinking ship, a somber duty, but he and his little sisters and brother keep finding time to laugh and play.

Koreeda's a passionately serious filmmaker: the two better known of his earlier fiction films deal with death and loss and here he considers as a given the worst of human carelessness and indifference both by society and the individual. "Maborosi" (1995) was a homage to Ozu but without Ozu's sense of social connectedness; it begins with an isolated couple in the city and chronicles a young widow's second marriage in the country through a slow pastiche of observed daily scenes where event and even dialogue are minimal concerns. The content of "Maborosi" is too thin, but the images and color are exquisite and the sequences of natural, unrehearsed-looking scenes achieve an impressively rich, beautiful, zen-like calm. "After Life" (1998) uses actual recollections of older people talking to the camera to build up a fantasy about dead souls held temporarily in a bureaucratic pre-Heaven limbo being asked to choose a single favorite memory to take with them into eternity: the effect is perplexing, thought-provoking, charming, and with great economy of means, cinematic.

"Nobody Knows" isn't as brilliant or resolved as "After Life" or as exquisitely visual as "Maborosi," but for all its rambling excessive length it delivers a quantity of undigested patient misery and joy that will evoke such noble antecedents from the classic world of cinematic humanism as Clément's "Forbidden Games," De Sica's "Bicycle Thief," and the homeless father and son living on garbage in Kurosawa's Do-des-ka-den.

What's new here though is a sense of the encompassing otherness of big modern cities and the stoicism and resiliency of childhood (and perhaps also of the Japanese personality). Keiko, the childish, weak, spoiled mother (played effectively -- we instantly hate her -- by You, who's some sort of pop star in Japan), sneaks three of her four children into the new apartment and tells them they can't go out, can't show themselves even on the balcony. (In the real event, this was largely because they were illegitimate and had no papers, but here the explanation is that their noise may get them evicted.) Only Akira can leave, and she won't let him or the others go to school. They're prisoners of their urban anonymity and of an impersonal contemporary society.

As in Andrew Berkin's "Cement Garden," the children also pretend everything's okay to escape the cruelty of the social welfare system. We watch agonizingly -- and many writers say the movie's somewhat too long; it does feel thus especially during the first hour -- but this time Koreeda's world is more direct and specific than before and there's plenty of talk. The children chatter among themselves. Eventually they go out and mix a bit by day with other children. Akira even talks to himself; he has to, because there's no adult coaching him so he must impersonate an elder adviser.

Whatever its roughness and excess, "Nobody Knows" is intense and powerful film-making. Koreeda has put his whole heart and soul into this movie and with it achieves an experience you can't shrug off. Nor will you forget the kids, especially the beautiful boy, Yûya Yagira, who may be growing inch by inch into a star even as we speak.