Shoplifters

For this stunning masterpiece Shoplifters, Hirokazu Koreeda should win the Academy Award for Best Director. It is unbelievable that the rather complicated characters and their relationships are depicted in just two hours. The approach is mild, understated, low-profile, subtle and nuanced. Much room, space and thought are left to the viewers. The direction is simply super smart.

The cinematography is extraordinary, with some surprising long shots, close-ups and beautiful shots from tight angles. The editing is speechless, connecting numerous scenes just seamlessly. Not a single minute is wasted, and the film is largely intense and arresting. Together with the brilliant performances from the ensemble cast, the result is a satisfying and deeply affecting drama on lower class in Japan.

A small family of small-scale thieves finds a lost girl on the outskirts of a cold street and decides to give her shelter.

Enter with this film waiting for a kind of family history with light teachings, however, I end up being a very special work full of sweet moments and at the same time provocative, with ideas and messages that challenge us about our true definition of family and trust. With a sad and melancholic narrative that makes us feel small moments of beauty and union, but little by little begins to reveal layer by layer on a more bittersweet and human truth.

Filmed in an excellent way with a cinematography designed to stay around the eyes of youngsters, with a soft and melancholic soundtrack that perfectly complements the scenes. The performances are fantastic from the entire cast, especially the children, who give a realistic and humane representation when it comes to their performances. The script is fantastic and human, teaching them a hard reality and difficult to grasp many times by our intangible minds, people who try to survive day by day through bad actions, but still try to keep their intentions pure and good.

A film quite unique, original and emotional, full of hard and sad moments that move us completely but eventually end up revealing a new truth different from what we believed, highly recommended without a doubt.

Greetings again from the darkness. We typically think of family as blood relatives, those affiliated by marriage or adoption, and those funky cousins (sometimes 'removed') that, according to the family tree, are supposedly related to us. Expert Japanese filmmaker Hirokazu Kore-eda (LIKE FATHER LIKE SON, 2013) presents a story that will have you questioning whether the strongest connection is blood, heart, or money.

We first witness 'father' Osamu Shibata (played by Lily Franky) and adolescent 'son' Shota (Jyo Kairi) in a well-coordinated shoplifting maneuver at the local grocery store. On the way home they stumble across a shivering child, maybe 4 or 5 years old, who has been seemingly abandoned by her parents. They take her home to warm her up and feed her, and it's here we discover the multi-generational family living in a tiny apartment. This family also consists of 'grandmother' Hatsue (an excellent Kirin Kiki), 'mother/wife' Nobuyo (Sakura Ando), and teenage daughter Aki (rising star Mayu Matsuoka).

When the family discovers signs of abuse on the little girl Yuri (Miyu Sasaki), they decide to keep her - less an informal adoption than an admission to the club. See, this family lives in poverty, and finds comfort in working odd jobs and shoplifting. They do bad things out of necessity, in a kind of twisted 'honor among thieves'. Each person, regardless of age is expected to contribute to the team. The eldest provides a steady income through her deceased ex-husband's pension, and by scamming mercy money from his second family. Osamu and Nobuyo have regular part time jobs, while Aki works in a sexy chat room. Shota polishes his shoplifting skills and even tiny Yuri begins to learn by watching him. Everyone contributes in what can be described as a pyramid scheme of petty cons.

As the film progresses, we get to know each of the characters and begin to care about them ... rooting for them to find success. Writer-Director Kore-eda draws us in with subtle scenes of interaction between the characters, each willing to sacrifice for the other. He raises the question on whether choosing one's family might create a stronger bond than those blood ties. What really seems to matter is where we feel we belong, and where are accepted.

The film won the Palme d'Or at the 2018 Cannes Film Festival, and it's likely due to the devastating and expert final act. In a dramatic shift in tone, true character is revealed - it's a shocking revelation on some fronts, and fully expected on others. Each family member has a backstory that slowly unfolds through the first two acts, and then abruptly slaps us upside the head as the film nears conclusion. There are many social aspects to be discussed after this one, including how the child welfare system (seemingly regardless of country) sometimes works against a child's best interest, even with the best intentions. This is one that will grab your heart and then stick with you for a while.

Watched in official En Competition at the Festival De Cannes 2018 on the 14th of May. My favourite film of the festival of the titles in competition films screened, all round excellent performances with deft direction, superbly written this film benefits from being written by a humanist director following in the steps of previous masters like De Sica and Bresson. I really cannot recommend this film highly enough, social realism that shakes you to your heart breaks, an instant modern classic. Ten out of ten.

I'm putting down 8/10 for a "rating", but basically I have no idea how to put a movie like this numerically in comparison with just about any Hollywood effort. It really belongs on a different scale entirely. My wife and I are just back from seeing it at our local art-cinema theater and we liked it very much. Stylistically, for other recent movies it's close to "Roma" and also the American indie film "Leave No Trace" as bittersweet, unhurried explorations of quite real human beings working hard to survive.

"Shoplifters" follows the lives of a makeshift "family" living in the underside of an unnamed Japanese city (the particular place isn't important). The adults scrape by with low-security, low-paid jobs, the grandma has a small pension income, and the kids are vagabonds. They get by in a crowded, ramshackle tenement and the two kids are busy picking up the techniques of petty shoplifting from the adults. We slowly learn that almost none of them are actually related; they've haphazardly chosen each other to live with in a framework a little outside the margins of normal society. All of them, in some way, have left or been taken out of abusive or dangerous previous relationships. Throughout their exploits, told by a long series of short vignette scenes, is that they indeed feel close bonds but that their "family" is built, not by blood, but by the constant kindness they show towards each other. They survive on the margins, but they love and are loved.

The second and much more subliminal big message I took away from this film was its ambience: it's quiet. Scenes that would -- in a Hollywood film -- predictably lead to shouting matches or displays of anger or confrontations with authority, *never* take that cheap overdramatized route here. When confronted with tough questions, the main characters answer reflectively and with spare honesty. Even out on the streets with traffic and lots of people around, it's quiet. What a change.

Toward the end of the film, the main characters are being patiently interviewed by social services staff in a series of magnetically powerful scenes. The "family" members' answers are often startling: "Why were you teaching your son to shoplift?" "I ... didn't know anything else to teach him." or: "Didn't you take your grandma and threw her away?" "No. Someone else threw her away; we took her in." or: "The child belongs with her mother." "No. Giving birth doesn't make her a mother." From small glimpses like this, a window opens into an entire world of human nature.