Poppoya

A moving japanese movie of 1999. This time Ken Takakura is not a member of the Yakuza but a railroad station officer. He is now 68, but looks even better than his young time. The most moving part is the telephone conversation between him and his friend's son regarding the closing the station. I am not sure whether this film will be available in the state but it is a must-see film for 1999.

What more can I say about this movie the other reviewers have already said better. I just watched this movie on TV as a special presentation on one of the local foreign language TV stations here in Los Angeles. If you ever get a chance to see this movie, see it.

It has wonderful understated acting, direct but subtle writing, and beautiful cinematography. This is the perfect antidote to the summer blockbuster.

I just watched this tonight and had to get it from Hong Kong, via Ebay. I don't agree with the last reviewer, though I recognise the comments about values of the past. That is kind of the point. The movie establishes Sato, the railroader, as a sympathetic character. He's not as cold as his exterior: he does grieve for his wife and his daughter, he does show affection and care for the girls and for his colleague etc. He is criticised and there is a constant theme about how he feels he cannot change. The fact that he should have done this or that differently makes us think about what he should or should not have done.

I found the film touching and thought that it was shot well and had a pretty decent plot. The revelation of the plot at the end was a bit of clumsy exposition, but the movie has heart and I am willing to forgive it.

A real touching film based on an equally moving short story. So much that it actually hurts. I just couldn't hold my tears back towards the end of the film, and I doubt those who appreciate this wonderful movie can either. Yes, it's a tear-jerker, but unlike love stories (and this isn't one) it's the poignance behind one man's stoicism -- that of a man who's not just about to be brush aside by progress, but also tormented by his guilt over the death of his wife and daughter -- that makes it heart-warming yet sad at the same time. Kudos to Yasuo Furuhata for staying faithful to Jiro Asada's story, and Ken Takakura for a stirring performance as the aging station manager.

This film will probably haunt me again the next time I take a train-ride through the snow.

Must had cried for a thousand miles. Watching a movie on a 6" screen trapped in a coach seat at 30,000 ft high is usually a diversion not a pleasurable entertainment. But strangely enough, this simple 3 hankie movie is both engaging and moving.

A railway man works at the end of a desolated railway line, at the end of his career, at the end of his life. Nothing much happens. He does his job at the one man station faithfully. He greets the old familiar commuters with the station name, shovels snow off the platform, sends the train off with a ritualistic check list. He did this almost all his life with the same mechanical precision. He had a family once. His daughter died at a very young age and more recently his wife died.

The lonely widower had a few visitors on New Year Eve. And the news were not feastive. The little town, with the younger population migrating to bigger places, would probably die of old age. The rail line, facing declining traffic and increasing loss, will be closed. And he would have to vacate the station which was also his home for most of his life.

The director, Yasuo Furuhata, handles the story with sensitivity and humility. The occasional high camera or wide angle shots only accentuates the isolation. Cutting is excellent. Scenes are allowed to sustain poignancy without allowing distraction. Quick cuts are used to enforce the ritual routine with precision. The bare story line & minimal dialogue was not a handicap. The use of flashbacks in fact creates beautiful characterisation without unnecessary ornamentation. The old method of using colour tone to delineate time events was very effective here. In one particular scene shot from a static camera position flowed with a continuous action shifted over time just by the use of colour. Seamless, masterly.

How did veteran lead Ken Takakura win so much empathy for his part is really a mystery. No strut, quiet body and very little facial expression. Yet he involves us in the internal conflicts of the character. When he said "no regrets" over the choices he had made in his career, the price he had to pay and the sadness he felt is palpable.

Don't believe a word I say. Just go watch the movie.