Hiso hiso boshi

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.

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.

This is a hard one to pin down. It's unlike anything Sion Sono has done before and is the type of film that will have some proclaiming it a masterpiece while others won't like it at all. I can see arguments for both cases but I thought it was a beautifully done piece, visually, and a quiet thoughtful film when considering its implications.

Other than one brief scene in color it is entirely in black and white. Early on it put me in mind of Cory McAbee's wonderful space-western/musical THE AMERICAN ASTRONAUT (2001) in that it shares the same approach with a simplistic unconventional design to the spaceship and the way it is seen in the exterior shots as it travels through the lonely cosmos. With THE WHISPERING STAR the interior design has old timey retro gadgetry and commonplace items like a washing machine and a refrigerator full of what looked like cans of beer. In both films these scenes were intentionally styled as oddities and both were effective despite being low budget. But that's where the similarity in the films ends as they become quite different experiences.

There is very little dialogue in THE WHISPERING STARS, and it's all done in whispers, lending meaning to the title. The onboard computer is called "computing device 6-7 MAH Em" and it talks in the quiet voice of a young child, trying to engage android Yoko Suzuki, a courier in the "SPACE PARCEL SERVICE," in conversations, which are largely ignored by the latter. Even seemingly important decisions on coarse corrections go unresponded to so 6-7 MAH Em just deals with whatever needs to be done while Yoko is more likely to grab a beer from the fridge, study the pile of packages yet to be delivered, or listen to old voice recordings she made. Days pass, even years, with nothing much happening in between the brief stops on planets to deliver packages to humans, all of which has us (and Yoko) wondering at the meaning of the contents of the packages which often seem trivial or unexplainable mysteries at best.

Interesting too is that the scenes taking place on the planets were filmed in and around the mostly abandoned city of Fukushima, Japan, where the nuclear power plant catastrophe occurred. Which enhances the feeling of questioning loneliness that Yoko feels as she goes about her deliveries.

Very different sort of film for Sono but I liked it and, if anything, I am more impressed by him than ever. There is no telling what he will come up with next but I'll be along for the ride.

– Far into the future people are shadows of their former selves. Humans are far too short-lived and vulnerable, so artificial intelligence pervades the universe. One humanoid robot named Yoko, delivers packages to the fringes of distant galaxies. She has time on her hands so she listens to the audio diary of her predecessor, wonders at the fluttering of moths and peeks inside the packages. The parcels are filled with non-essential items that only humans could appreciate; faded photographs, bits of cloth and little mementos of every description. She is intrigued. As she interacts with humans on scattered planets Yoko learns to ride a bicycle and appreciate sounds, among other things. She sees that machines aren't so perfect and make mistakes just like humans do. "This film will give you a greater understanding of what it means to be human," said the director in Toronto. The film is set with 1950s décor and is shot nearly all in black and white, with a burst of color during one scene that represents "nostalgia for the past."

The eerie and abandoned feeling to the city scenery is all too real because it was shot in the cordoned off area around Fukushima. The film crew obtained permits and included non-professional actors who were evicted from the area at the time of the disaster. All sounds were recorded after the scenes were filmed. This imaginative and cerebral film is slow-going. I appreciate slow-moving films, yet felt the points could have been better made in less time. All in all it is wonderful to see the mechanical Yoko begin to appreciate memories, taking pictures, throwing a ball to a dog, music, games and all the little things that humans appreciate. Three and a half of five stars. Seen at the Toronto International Film Festival 2015.

I didn't know what to expect from my first Sion Sono movie, so when The Whispering Star ended up as what I can only describe as Stanley Kubrick meets Andrei Tarkovsky I was certainly surprised. Its narrative is almost wholly visual with minimal dialogue, often spoken in hushed and reverential whispers, expecting the audience to fill in the gaps with the limited information they've been given. Despite the clunky and unoriginal outlook of society and nature, it's the way the film is presented to you that makes all the difference, the black & white photography of the seemingly abandoned Fukushima Prefecture is gorgeous, with one scene of colour feeling beautifully alien to the rest of the movie. The long periods of reflective silence allow the audience and character to ponder on their meaning and place in the universe. While at times feeling akin to that of an arthouse production, for what it's worth, your patience will be rewarded if you can make it to the end.