Violines en el cielo

In Tokyo, the violoncellist Daigo Kobayashi (Masahiro Motoki) loses his job when the sponsor dissolves his orchestra. Deigo decides to return to his hometown Yamagata with his wife Mika (Ryoko Hirosue) to live in the house that his mother, who has just passed away, left for him. While seeking a job in the newspaper, he finds an advertisement entitled Departures in the NK Agency and he schedules an interview believing it is a travel agency. However, he finds out that the position is to work in a funeral business as a sort of undertaker that prepares the corpse for cremation and the afterlife. While Mika and his friends look down on his job, Daigo feels proud with the recognition of the families of the diseased persons with his work. When the owner of the bathhouse Tsurunoyu dies, Mika finally recognizes the beauty of the artistic work of Daigo. When they are informed that his absent father has died alone in a fishing village, Daigo resolves his innermost issues with him.

The winner of Best Foreign Language Film of 2009 "Okuribito" is a touching movie with a beautiful and full of sentiments story about life and death. The idea of death as a gateway to the afterlife has been explored in many movies; but in "Okuribito" it is disclosed in an artistic and beautifully sad way, through a dramatic and respectful but never corny relationship with the families of the diseased person. This wonderful movie was awarded with thirty-one (31) wins and three (3) nominations to several film festivals, and is supported by an original screenplay based on the rich Japanese culture that brings the most different and antagonistic feelings to the viewer; magnificent direction and performances of the lead and support cast; fantastic cinematography, lighting and art direction; and a stunning and stylish music score. My vote is nine.

Title (Brazil): "A Partida" ("The Departure")

Fixating itself on the pretext of death as a strong stigma to the Japanese rather than on the necrophiliac titillation possessed by those outside this particular societal circle, "Departures" approaches this issue with credible poignancy made more relevant when seen as a mitigation by director Yojiro Takita and screenwriter Kundo Koyama to a prevailing Eastern taboo. Although slightly undercut by an ultimately predictable script, Japan's Oscar-winning entry for this year's foreign-language film category is thoughtfully expressive, portraying a morbidly incriminating profession with dignified grace.

Daigo (Masahiro Motoki) is a cellist for a symphony orchestra which disbands after a performance for failing to gather audiences. Having no job, he and his wife Mika (Ryoko Hirosue) move to his hometown in his deceased mother's house where, upon answering a help-wanted ad he mistakes for a travel agency, he ends up as "encoffiner"-in-training, helping his boss Sasaki (Tsutomu Yamazaki) perform a set of ceremonial rites for the dead before cremation. Aware of the social demonizing of such job, he lies to his wife about it until she learns of it anyway and pleads that he finds a "normal job," an appeal he finds tough when he increasingly develops a meticulous fondness for his work.

Takita's charming and ultimately touching apologetic on mortality charts the disorderliness arising from an individual's social circle while he pursues his sense of purpose, with the titular itinerary suggesting more than the moribund ritual the film's protagonist is subjected to. Thus, it also becomes a plaintive meditation on Daigo's spiritual and moral development as he attends to the various abandonment issues that haunt him (a father who ran off when he was young and a wife that stigmatizes him for his newly found "filthy" career). Ultimately, "Departures" is as much a story of atonement as it is about dealing with mortality; that in order to fully embrace one's existence, it is necessary to cope with death -- both literally and figuratively -- while nurturing the bonds that exist among those who still live.

I have read many reviews on this movie and have been surprised by what I saw. I saw many reviews with comments such as this didn't deserve its Oscar win and that this movie was far from a masterpiece because it was too sentimental and exaggerated.One person proposed showing less scenes of him with the cello, speeding up the movie, and cutting out scenes with long stares. I disagree and believe that this movie is beautiful the way it is. This movie is not overbrimming with sentimentality; it has a good amount for such an emotional film. The scenes with the cello and the birds represent the passion and emotions he feel. We don't call Shakespeare's long poems sentimental so why do we call this work of Japanese art that? The more I heard the music I felt like the more I understood the movie. Western movies sometimes disregard time in movies allowing action to follow action. This movie was simply about the meaning of living knowing that we would die. The long, drawn out silences were necessary to convey emotions. If you have studied many Asian cultures, you know that they convey emotions not through words but through silence. The silences give us time to ponder and think about the questions raised, something we are often not given in bang bang action American films.As a musician, I feel like this whole movie is like song filled with much raw emotion.

Without irony, there is a funereal grace to this 2009 dramedy, so much so that one can sometimes hear the distinct echoes of film master Yasujiro Ozu ("Tokyo Story") in director Yojiro Takita's subtle yet stately look at the business of preparing deceased bodies for their caskets. Ozu's influence can be felt most in the quietude of tone that reveals the inevitability of death with both grim humor and spiritual awakening. The film's lyricism rests on the mournful cello accompaniment of the protagonist, Daigo Kobayashi, a young cellist who finds himself jobless after his Tokyo-based orchestra is disbanded. Out of economic necessity, he and his sunny, supportive wife Mika move back to his late mother's house up north in Yamagata.

As outlined in Kundo Koyama's somewhat methodical screenplay, the story focuses on the challenge Daigo faces in finding one's place in life, no matter how dubious it may seem to others. Daigo, bereft of his passion, answers a job ad involving "departures", which leads him to believe the company is a travel agency. However, he quickly realizes the two-person operation is actually about preparing bodies for burial, ritually cleansing and cloaking them while the mourners watch. Initially aghast, he is convinced by the taciturn owner Mr. Sasaki that he is ideal for the role of assistant and offers him the job. He has to fight his own prejudices as well as others about the supposed unseemliness of his profession, including Mika, who finds out her husband's new profession and pronounces him unclean. Daigo, however, realizes he has found his passion in the pre-burial ceremony, and Sasaki teaches him the ropes in a way that recalls Juzo Itami's beloved 1985 comedy, "Tampopo".

Former boy-band singer Masahiro Motoki is genuinely affecting as Daigo, while Ryoko Hirosue brings a surprising layer of complexity to the perennially sunny Mika. The deadpan Tsutomu Yamazaki makes Sasaki the film's key gravitational element with a minimum of effort, while Kimiko Yo shows an offbeat quality as his office manager Yuriko. The cinematography by Takeshi Hamada is top-notch with some memorable images offered along the way (like Daigo playing his cello on a hilltop), and Joe Hisaishi's ("Kikujiro") music score allows dramatic sweep without getting too epic. On the downside, the film runs too long at 130 minutes, and there are moments when the comedy is played too broadly and the sentiment laid on too thick. Still, the movie shows Japanese cinema still exudes a unique identity, and there is global vitality still in that country's film industry. A brief interview with Takita is the major bonus on the 2010 DVD.

Almost three decades since starring in Juzo Itami's classic The Funeral, Tsutomu Yamazaki once more shines in a tale woven around the rituals, traditions and theatre involved in Japanese death rites. The irreverence that makes Itami's classic such a delight is present here. Daigo's first day on the job playing a stiff in a DVD for the funeral business comes back to haunt him in hilarious fashion later on. However, there is also reverence, the film respectfully pointing out that the people who do this necessary but thankless task do not deserve the disdain and revulsion that their profession often attracts.

Daigo loses his job as a cellist, returns to his inaka roots and stumbles into a job as an undertaker. Too ashamed to tell his wife, he slowly warms to his apprenticeship under the masterful tutelage of Sasaki. As he goes about his business, the inevitable traumas of a childhood long forgotten bubble to the surface as he goes about re-acquainting himself with the town. The conduit for the negative feelings towards his profession is Daigo's wife Mika, who takes punitive steps on discovering his new employment.

Screenwriter Kundo Koyama has to take credit for a script that moves along briskly, juxtaposing black farce with raw tenderness, all done seamlessly, and acutely observed. Lipstick on a corpse produces gales of laughter, and you are reminded that sometimes the best fun is had at funerals. Daigo moves towards a form of reconciliation and redemption through the promptings of those around him, and the comfort of his cello.

It would be all too easy for material like this to lurch into sappy sentimentality, but the film tugs at the heartstrings without overtly manipulating its audience. Motoki has to take some plaudits for this for a performance that amuses at times but hints at deep inner turmoil at others. Hirosue is less consistent, at times indulging in the head-bobbing, giggly, saccharine sweet girlishness that is the forte of the Japanese TV drama actress. She has one line in the climactic scene of such stunning obviousness I am surprised it stayed in, but for the most part she redeems herself in the tense interactions with Motoki over their differing views on his new career. Overall, she convinces as the supportive but put-upon wife.

From Kurosawa's Ikiru through The Funeral and now Okuribito, Japanese cinema has a rich vein of movies that exploit the rituals of death. How those rituals comfort us, enchant us, and see us through to a place where the pain still exists but might come to an end, is laid bare in Okuribito. It is an absorbing, moving tale, full of laughter and tears, that celebrates the intricate details of a Japanese rites of passage while laying bare their universal function. Best seen in the cinema, to get the full effect of the luscious orchestral score.