Hiso hiso boshi

There is a dripping tap and the repetition of minimal action before we even discover that we are in a space vehicle and only later that we gather everything is robotic and that parcels have to be delivered. a whole pile of parcels to be delivered all around the planetary system. Indeed the first half of the film is fairly static and we only gradually learn a little more and we get to go outside. Despite the claustrophobic nature of the early section it is always very well shot but when we go outside and the beleaguered Fukushima doubles as the various inter galactic stops the cinematography is even finer. But it is creepy. The walks to the recipients are worrying and the confrontations decidedly odd. I would not rush to watch this extraordinary film again but it is a unique experience.

The Whispering Star very much stands out in the filmography of Sion Sono, who is sometimes criticized for making "loud" movies.

This is an extremely quiet movie. There is no ambience in the spaceship. All the dialogue is spoken in whispers. Not everything that should make a sound effect does. Watch this in a very quiet, dark room for the best experience. I had to pause a file transfer because my hard drive writing itself made a noise too distracting, so this is not a Doritos kind of movie.

Suddenly the subtle sound of crickets on a planet is comforting against the lonely silence of space. The few sound effect that are used are noticeable and very impactful. The beautiful music that plays only 2 or 3 times just overwhelms you.

While not as great as some of his maximalistic films, this one proves Sono is a great storyteller even when he's outside of his comfort zone. The minimalist approach and slow burn story work wonderfully and create a very unique experience as you discover more about the nature of the character and the universe she inhabits. It leaves you with interesting observations to think about. I will surely be revisiting this film in the future.

It's not a bad film but it's a difficult watch. Even if I like the crazy Sono, I also appreciate his quieter films (I absolutely love The Land of Hope), but this is a bit too introspective for my taste.

Certainly beautiful, certainly with a lot of meaning, certainly with great acting, but boy...I'm sure I will not rewatch it even with all it's merits, as this seemed much longer than it is.

The beautiful and minimalist imagery is very haunting and it gave me a perfect feeling of isolation, just like in 2001: A Space Odyssey. Even the AI in the spaceship is very reminiscent of HAL 9000. The silence and the whispering give it such a peaceful yet lonely feeling, almost in an hypnotizing way. Little things like smoking a cigarette or riding a bicycle are a reminder of what makes us human in the first place in an universe where mankind is almost extinct. Humans prefer to send their deliveries using the traditional way; they avoid using teleportation or, in other words, the use of technology that is slowly leading the human race to complete isolation.

The movie follows a meaningless android deliverywoman who gets curious about these humans as she interacts with them, giving her something to feel near the end of the movie as she becomes as much human as these people. The movie ends with a final delivery in a place with a bunch of people interacting with each other where no sign of technology is seen. Even the recipient of this final delivery doesn't want to have any interaction with this cyborg deliverywoman.

A simple and original concept of a movie that definately requires you to be in the right mood to watch it. It's also a cool companion to Kairo as they share some similar themes.

"The Whispering Star" strikes at first thanks to an unexpected austerity and elegance that set it apart from Sion Sono's most known repertoire. The film follows android Yoko Suzuki's daily life as she travels through space to deliver packages. Despite teleportation technology being available, humans still prefer to spend years, sometimes decades, for their deliveries, as the wait is what makes the items special. The nostalgic mood suggests that people eventually rejected modern technologies to retain their emotions and humanity. Yoko's spacecraft looks like an old Japanese house, and all the technology we get to see is retro to say the least (tape recorders, dry cell batteries, gramophones). A strange emphasis is also put on sound: for example, while the sand under an old woman's fingers is loud as hell, the waves crashing against the shore seem to make no sound at all. On some planets, humans became their own shadows, and cannot survive any sound that is louder than 30 decibels.

The concept is definitely interesting, but I wonder if it was enough for a full-length feature film. Most of the running time is spent with Yoko silently walking across post-apocalyptic landscapes and repeating the same chores all over again inside the spacecraft. Even though these scenes help the viewer feel the monotony and lose the perception of time just like Yoko, I don't think the payoff was worth the patience. Sure the sepia cinematography is gorgeous, and there are a few highly poetic moments here and there, but sometimes it gets tough to keep the focus on the film rather than your grocery list.

It's a contemplative work that cherishes fading memories and reflects on what it is to be human, but a short might have been more than enough to convey the same meaning.