Sekai no chûshin de, ai o sakebu

Told, mostly, in a chronological series of flashbacks, Crying Out Love (forgive me for abbreviating the title) is unabashed about pulling blatantly on your heart-strings. It has been so meticulously put together however, with such charming performances from the young leads, that you fall readily into being manipulated into tears.

Saku, who spends far too much time in the office, is soon to marry Ritsuko. But on the eve of a great typhoon Ritsuko discovers an old audio cassette in some childhood clothes, which sends her back to the old seaside town she grew up in. Saku finds only a note and, whilst visiting a friend in despair, a chance sighting of Ritsuko in the background of a TV news broadcast leads Saku also back home to find her, and to rediscover the pains of an old ghost.

Once back in the quiet seaside town, Saku is drawn to replay a series of audio cassettes given him by his high school love, Aki. Here the flashbacks begin, and we see Saku and Aki's relationship grow. At first the budding high school romance is charming, cute, and most of all quite genuine. From the rather gawky and unsophisticated ways Saku acts and reacts, to the far more mature and yet still innocent Aki, the young actors invest the characters with both a sense of reality and certain nostalgic magic as befits the memories of a first love at 16.

Saku wins a Walkman in a radio competition, by the simple expedient of lying about a girl that is, essentially, Aki herself. A disappointed Aki hands him a cassette - a message - and thus begins the ongoing exchange of tapes - which later becomes a journal of sorts - as their relationship is repaired and grows, and into the tragedy that follows.

Filmed in something of a standard soft-focus with stylised lighting, the flashback sequences bring with them a look and feel of a youth long gone where the world held so much promise for the two lovers. The stark contrast of the present time, and the occasional intermingling of the two, is perhaps a tad blunt but works remarkably well. This is an intimate film, without sweeping shots or extravagance, but is invested with a warmth by the choice of locations and sets that all seem truly lived in, truly small town Japan. Other than some dreadfully wooden lines near the very end of the movie (both in delivery and in writing), the acting throughout ranges from decent to some remarkable scenes by both young Saku (Mirai Moriyama) and Aki (Masami Nagasawa).

Crying Out Love is a beautiful, charming movie which leads you through the youth of two lovers in such a way as almost guarantee tears. It's a deliberate, and clearly obvious, intent but one you truly don't mind being driven into because the journey is so worthwhile.

8.0/10

A beautiful, beautiful movie. Haunting....and got me crying (and I don't cry easily!) It haunted me for days after watching it on cable TV, and even writing this comment made my eyes a little moist. This charming movie is made credible by the performances of the two young actors. I loved them and I loved the movie! What made it even more endearing was that there was no love scenes, no sex, no giggling teenage girls, etc. Nothing like those Hollywood or HK type teen romance. Watch it with an open mind and an open heart, and be prepared to feel... BTW, I just fell in love with the character Aki. If I ever had a love in my teens, it would be her....

There's no doubt about it, this one is a tear-jerker, solely designed to push the buttons as hard as it can to affect the audiences emotion. Teenage love, making past wrongs right, the death of a lover, typhoons, it's all here. And what's most amazing is that, for the most part, the movie does it. Always hovering on the edge of cliché, but never tipping over, "Crying Out Love" essentially works.

The story is told in two parts, flashing back and forwards often. One involves young Sakutaro who begins a relationship with the cute as a button Aki Hirose at a time in both of their lives when puppy love is turning into something real. The second is Sakutaro about fifteen years later, trying to come to terms with the loss of that relationship which he never quite recovered from. And his new girlfriend, Ritusko has a secret.

Without giving away too much, that first story works. And, boy, does it. It is inter-cut beautifully with older Sakutaro remembering and searching for meaning. You know exactly where it's going, but the thrill is in the journey here, and it captures the explosiveness and pain of first love and the same of young loss.

The second story, however, falls apart. After the first one ends, some loose ends are left to be connected, and they are, perfunctorily and ham-fistedly. And the actual finale, while far from ruining the film, adds nothing to the emotional power of the majority of the film.

This movie is based on a novel written by Katayama Kyoichi. The first print only limited to 8,000 copies but after Shibasaki Kou (that cast Ritsuko) had read it in a occasion, she was deeply impressed and recommend it on a magazine. Hence the rest is history and it had sold over 3 million copies in Japan which beat the sales record of Norway's forest. Due to the heat of the book, the story had bring into the movie which include the top of the crew in Japan movie industry.

Ritsuko role are only add to the movie and not appear in the original novel and the original "Centre of the world" is not in Australia in the book too. However, this movie still touching my heart as I had a common feeling which as I have pass my youth in the same 80 age like Saku and Aki, where walkman is such a precious thing in that time.

The score is very well done and is emotional moving, the main theme by Hirai Ken is excellently with stirring melody.

I highly recommend this movie but sadly it is not easily available in western country except by internet selling like yes.Asia 9 / 10

The English title of this movie is "Crying out love, in the centre of the world".

After the proliferation of Korean romances in the last few years, Japan has made a come back, first with top romance "poetic" director Shunji Iwai's Hana and Alice. The director of Cry, Isao Yukisada, has collaborated extensively with Shunji Iwai and has been considered by many as his successor. The book on which the movie was based has taken Japan by storm; ditto the movie. However, as the story in the book, while beautiful, is a little too simple to sustain a movie, an additional character was written into it, played by Kou Shibasaki who suggested the idea of the movie in the first place. Also, the movie adopts the favourite structure for Japanese romances, one of parallel events, the present and a flashback. The success of this approach is quite evident.

Coming before the title is a prelude, with a frame showing a rain-beaten window pane and voice over, to the very, very faint background of Bach-Gounod's Ave Maria (does that bring back Raging Bull?) The voices of the boy and the girl are languid and melancholy. The meaning of this prelude scene and its background music are revealed only close towards the end.

The premise is familiar, a simple, sweet high school romance ended by a leukaemia death. What makes this movie a cut above the pack is that it does not go all out to be a tearjerker. The romance story in the flashback, which accounts for most of the movie, is told with refreshing simplicity, absorbing the audience in the attentive details and interesting characters, particularly the girl played so charmingly by Masami Nagasawa. The length of two-and-a half-hours is not an issue at all. Once you get into the small town of Takamatsu, time sort of stands still. If you don't like that sort of thing, one more minute would become boring. If you love it, passage of real time in the cinema is simply not noticed.

I won't dwell on the plot. We know very early that the girl in the romance eventually died of leukaemia so there's no spoilers there. To enrich the movie, an additional character is introduced, the man's (was the boy) present fiancée who however has a link to the past. Some think that this small plot twist is just a little too engineered but personally, I don't have a lot of problem with it.

One very interesting aspect is the retro element. The period of the flashback is the 80s, cassette messages listened via a walkman serves as a link between the pass and the present – a sort of audible love letters.

Ken Harai fans make sure that you do not dash away before the ending credits, which is accompanied by his performance of the title song he wrote.