Calling from deep to deep

Have been rather lazy to blog these few days, somehow, time just flew by, at work, after work, at work and after work but the movie, Tokyo Sonata definitely brought a new perspective towards life. One of the best movies I've watched over the last few months, and it was even more terrifying when I continued to search and read the reviews written by others; to see what others have picked up because the movie is so real and bleak

Tokyo Sonata

The tagline: Every Family has its Secrets (contains spoiler)

It talks about the perceived roles that everyone is blindly playing, the noble and respected 'teacher', the authoritative and tough 'father', ... structures which, when collapsed, do not provide an alternative system for us to lean on. And it was depicted so vividly, that such systems are vulnerable, and the trigger points for such collapse are so common that it calls for a need to reflect on the issues.

To make it simple, the Sasaki family is a typical middle-class Japanese family, a working Dad who provides for the family in terms of material needs, a loving mother who is the bridge between the solemn Dad and the children, the elder son who is idealistic and looks for meaning in his life, the younger son who just wants to learn the piano

They are just a typical Japanese family, but breakdown was triggered by the retrenchment of the Dad who was in charged of the administrative details of an important corporation. It could be pride, or difficulty to open himself to the family with the truth due to years of non-communication (zero-HTHT moments)

The movie played on, showing the secrets of every member of the family, and how everyone wanted to experience a change (somewhat like the movie 'Requiem for a Dream', much less surreal than 'Requiem' but much more realistic). There was a mixture of comedic moments too and as all Japanese movies, the depiction of certain scenes or dialogue was timely and appropriate:

The wife was appreciating the convertible vehicle in the car showroom and remarked, "so the roof can be retracted so easily ..." just before she chanced upon her husband queueing for 'free-food'

The demarcation of 'National Boundary' within the home, drawn by the elder son on the floor, marking his own room and that of his younger sibling as the area that would require protection

The face-off when the Dad refused to acknowledge the elder son's decision to join the US Army by claiming that it was his duty to protect the household; the son felt that he would be actively protecting Japan and the family by joining the US Army which in turn protects Japan. The Dad was speechless when the son questioned him of what he had done to protect the family, and what he was doing everyday (just when he was retrenched and was hiding the fact)

When caught to have been taking piano lessons secretly, the younger son received rough treatment from the Dad (actually very typical) who fumed at the fact that the son had no courage to openly declare and fight for his interest to learn the piano (though it was rejected by himself before); and when he, himself did not have the courage to inform the family that he was jobless, for fear that he'd lose the authority

...

It is so sad when there is no hope for us, and I must say that the only unchanging source of comfort comes from God. It is the only way in which we can still stand firm when our perceived structure collapses.

I know that we need to constantly take stock of our lives amid the changing world. Yet, it is a fine line between being responsible and being lazy. There are people who use God as an excuse to simply 'nua' but well, it's just individual responsibilities I guess.

Wanted to also write about my dinner last week at Prego, the cell this evening, etc but Tokyo Sonata alone is already too heavy and deep. I'll make a pass tonight.

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Afternote: Read this review by the New York Times on this movie, and realised that I could never have summed it up better than this:

Despite the catastrophes visited on the family and a few other characters, and in spite of its deep well of melancholia, “Tokyo Sonata” ends on a strangely, almost insistently optimistic note. Much of that optimism emanates from the youngest son, whose desire to play the piano becomes a form of generational resistance against his father, who, without explanation, insists he do no such thing. Domination, like family life, has become a hollow ritual here. (“I’m home,” everyone says on returning to the house, as the mother answers, “Welcome home.”) An economic crisis shakes the family up — it brings the father to his knees, lifts the mother, almost destroys one son and liberates the other — but it’s art, useless art, that unites them.