Kabei: Our Mother

It's a funny business, reviewing movies. These days when "internalized emotions" and "emotional detachment" are favored over straightforward sentimentality, it must be hard to stay faithful to your true feelings.

Soon after completing jury duties at the 58th Berlinale, I managed to catch Yoji Yamada's Kabei.

After the screening, I watched folks dreamily amble out of the theatre hall, watery-eyed, men, women, and reviewers alike. Even the director of the Berlinale, obviously a hardened viewer of cinema, confessed to having been caught unawares and found himself crying three quarter's way into this unashamedly sentimental experience.

But what really surprised me were the reviews that came after. Despite being ineffably moved by the film, many reviewers chose to be tepid and emotionally non-committal in their writing. Apparently, post weeping, they had put on their "thinking cap", and consequently, missed out on what I felt was the genius about Kabei.

Allow me to explain.

Set in pre-war Japan, the story of Kabei revolves around one writer's family, and their fate therein, after he is held in jail for what was described as "thought crimes" against the Imperial will. Through a series of protracted emotional scenes, Yamada gets us familiar with the man, his loyal wife and two daughters, as well as three side characters—the man's pretty young sister, a bumbling ex-student, and a cad of an uncle – all come to help the family cope with their plight, in the absence of the man of the house.

The story moves along at a slow albeit steady pace, and heartbreaks occur at precisely the moments everyone is able to predict. This of course makes it near impossible for anyone in the audience to get too emotionally distraught by any dramatic event.

In other words, although you learn to love the family and their helpers, and sympathize with their unfortunate situation, you get so lulled by the certainty of the plot that you find yourself expecting a particular kind of ending.

However, two hours into the film (don't worry, Yamada provides the viewer with sufficient moments of gravity and levity to tide you along), he slaps you with what I can only describe as "the sting". All that you have assumed to be what the story was about—an innocent man wrenched from his faithful wife and daughters – now suddenly points to one of the family helpers. Someone you have hitherto taken for granted is now thrown into an unexpected twist of fate.

At this point, something curious happened in the theatre I was in. Everyone started sobbing with little or no inhibition.

"My word!" I muttered under my breath. It struck me then that "Kabei", in the final analysis, was more than a film about a family torn apart by an empire on the verge of war. It was, in fact, a cunning examination of one common human foible: How little we cared about the secret feelings of people who are closest to us.

Now, the most common criticism made about the film was that it was technically solid, but lacked innovation. That's what happens when reviewers put on their proverbial thinking cap, I guess. With Kabei, I believe Yoji Yamada knew exactly what trick he was going to employ to touch on one unique aspect of humanity. A wicked old trick he so seamlessly applied in the Tora-san series, and later, in Tasogare Sebei.

After lulling the audience into a sort of narrative comfort zone, he throws us into a realm of emotions rarely explored in cinema.

This, to me, is the most effective cinematic tool of all. One which avoids detection, but affects you deeply. And proof of its effectiveness was a thousand wet pieces of Kleenex, thrown into a litter bin just outside of that thousand-seater cinema hall.

Now if only some reviewers would resist being so caught up with being smart that they forget what cinema is really about. Human emotions. Pure and simple.

"Kaabee" depicts the hardship of a woman in pre and during WWII, raising her kids alone after her husband imprisoned for "thought crime". This movie was directed by Yamada Youji, and as expected the atmosphere of this movie is really wonderful. Although the historical correctness of some scenes, most notably the beach scene, is a suspect.

The acting in this movie is absolutely incredible. I am baffled at how they managed to gather this all-star cast for a 2008 film. Yoshinaga Sayuri, possibly the most decorated still-active actress in Japan, will undoubtedly win more individual awards for her performance in this film. Shoufukutei Tsurube in a supporting role was really nice as well. It was Asano Tadanobu though, who delivered the most impressive performance, perfectly portraying the wittiness of his character and the difficult situation he was in.

Films with pre-war setting is not my thing, but thanks to wonderful directing and acting, I was totally absorbed by the story. Also, it wasn't a far-left nonsense like "Yuunagi no Machi, Sakura no Kuni", and examines the controversial and sensitive issue of government oppression and brainwashing that occurred in that period in Japan. Excellent film, highly recommended for all viewers.

A Chinese scholar who criticizes harshly the arrogant nationalist, warmongering policies of the ruling clique around the emperor in pre-war Japan, is accused of being a 'communist' and jailed for life. His loving wife, who supports totally her husband and his ideas, is left alone to save her family from starvation. This movie is a huge statue erected in praise of the role of the mother in the history of mankind. Sayuri Yoshinaga is not less than sublime in the title role and it was a monumental scandal that she didn't get an Asian Oscar for the best female role in 2009. It went to a young girl with very limited acting potential.

This deeply moving and most 'human' feature is a must see for all 'true children' on earth.

Yoji Yamada is one of today's most brilliant directors. I have really enjoyed his period pieces, which have brought back fun memories of classic Samurai movies. Yamada has a subtle and quiet voice which he usually uses well. Kabei: Our Mother seemed like it came from a different director altogether. Set out like a series of memoirs, the film relied heavily on an intrusive narration and episodic structure. I never felt at ease, or intrigued, by the films pace. There were segments I enjoyed, most involving Asano, who kept his emotions in the open without making them obvious. The end was also very melodramatic, with screaming and crying forcing their way in. It was all very 'bitty', but each individual 'bit' had something to enjoy.

Actually one particular person/character isn't "right there", but my summary line is referring to the power of the movie. And this is all achieved without any fancy camera moves and/or big production sets, but with a great story and very (believable) and good actors conveying the story (arc).

You could call it a companion piece to great japan movies/cinema (such as Tokyo Story etc.), not so much story-wise of course, but more mood-wise! Great acting, nuances in the performances that are truly gems. If you're eager to experience a touching story and want to see a movie touching you emotionally, than this is the one to go. As you have noticed (as with many of my reviews), I'm not getting into the story. There are places here at IMDb where you can look those up, I'm not one to spoiler the story whatsoever!