"Shoplifters" (2018) Review
14 Aug 2018 | Ashley
When I was told that this film won the Palm d'Or 2018, I knew it was going to be a breathtaking one, and it did not disappoint. "Shoplifters" (2018) (original Japanese title: 万引き家族) is a Japanese film directed by Hirokazu Kore-eda. It traces a poor dishonest family making a living mostly out of shoplifting. The story might sound really simple at first, having me thought that the only interesting part of the film would be the shoplifting, but it managed to surprise me immensely with its depth beyond this faulty act.
You will find yourself during two full hours of the film, raising more and more questions about even the most basic of things, such as where do these characters come from, what is their true relationship with one another, and most importantly, are they really a family like they say they are? As the film progresses, it will mess with your mind, but in a good way, because that is what keeps it extremely intriguing. Director Kore-eda adopts a naturalistic style of filming, realistically showcasing a group of people, including adults and kids, going through Japanese recession which puts them through a hard time. I gradually realised that it is not only the filming style and the poverty that showcase realism, it is also the complicated relationship between these characters, their intentions, how they are perceived by the outside world and dilemmas of all kinds which shape this film into something of a believable eye-opener, infused with a great deal of empathy. Perhaps to some conservative Japanese audience, they would think that it foolishly highlights an unreality of Japan and makes notorious their country. On the contrary, some more open-minded audience would in turns look past the superficiality of illegal acts and instead, contemplate the root of all this mess, which is inevitably part of Japan's reality.
One of my favourite scenes is towards the end in the interrogation room with actress Sakura Ando, who plays the "wife" and "mother" in the film. I have to applaud Ando for her absolutely captivating acting. Instead of an over-the-shoulder shot, Kore-eda has chosen to point the camera straight at the actress, making it look more like a confession than a conversation with the interrogator. When we hear the voice of the interrogator asking her if the little child has ever called her "mother", we watch this woman silently break down to tears before us. This scene is magnificent. She runs her hands almost all the time through her hair and across her face, showing meticulously the emotion of an unspeakable pain and shame. When the interrogator proceeds to challenge her on the definition of a "family" and "mother", it automatically put me to contemplation. However, it was an easy side to take. As Ando starts to agree with, almost self-mockingly, the typical composition of a family (biological mother and father with their biological children) and the normal condemnation of acts such as kidnapping and murder, I could only repeat in my heart over and over: "they (the outside world) don't understand.... they don't understand...". How could they? They have not experienced the dilemmas these characters have had to face which put them in very uneasy situations, the love they have exchanged with one another, the bond they have built so tightly that surpassed all superficial right and wrong, and so on.
It was truly heart-breaking in the end when the little girl goes back to her biological mother's side. We see her reject the woman's offer of a new dress because she knows deep in her heart that motherly love is something that Ando has shown her, not a material excuse which serves as permission for physical abuse. What is family? What makes a mother, a father? These are questions that you will reconsider, and they are worth the thought because at a day and age where consumerism and capitalism are prominent, we often forget what true affection and relationships are.
When I was told that this film won the Palm d'Or 2018, I knew it was going to be a breathtaking one, and it did not disappoint. "Shoplifters" (2018) (original Japanese title: 万引き家族) is a Japanese film directed by Hirokazu Kore-eda. It traces a poor dishonest family making a living mostly out of shoplifting. The story might sound really simple at first, having me thought that the only interesting part of the film would be the shoplifting, but it managed to surprise me immensely with its depth beyond this faulty act.
You will find yourself during two full hours of the film, raising more and more questions about even the most basic of things, such as where do these characters come from, what is their true relationship with one another, and most importantly, are they really a family like they say they are? As the film progresses, it will mess with your mind, but in a good way, because that is what keeps it extremely intriguing. Director Kore-eda adopts a naturalistic style of filming, realistically showcasing a group of people, including adults and kids, going through Japanese recession which puts them through a hard time. I gradually realised that it is not only the filming style and the poverty that showcase realism, it is also the complicated relationship between these characters, their intentions, how they are perceived by the outside world and dilemmas of all kinds which shape this film into something of a believable eye-opener, infused with a great deal of empathy. Perhaps to some conservative Japanese audience, they would think that it foolishly highlights an unreality of Japan and makes notorious their country. On the contrary, some more open-minded audience would in turns look past the superficiality of illegal acts and instead, contemplate the root of all this mess, which is inevitably part of Japan's reality.
One of my favourite scenes is towards the end in the interrogation room with actress Sakura Ando, who plays the "wife" and "mother" in the film. I have to applaud Ando for her absolutely captivating acting. Instead of an over-the-shoulder shot, Kore-eda has chosen to point the camera straight at the actress, making it look more like a confession than a conversation with the interrogator. When we hear the voice of the interrogator asking her if the little child has ever called her "mother", we watch this woman silently break down to tears before us. This scene is magnificent. She runs her hands almost all the time through her hair and across her face, showing meticulously the emotion of an unspeakable pain and shame. When the interrogator proceeds to challenge her on the definition of a "family" and "mother", it automatically put me to contemplation. However, it was an easy side to take. As Ando starts to agree with, almost self-mockingly, the typical composition of a family (biological mother and father with their biological children) and the normal condemnation of acts such as kidnapping and murder, I could only repeat in my heart over and over: "they (the outside world) don't understand.... they don't understand...". How could they? They have not experienced the dilemmas these characters have had to face which put them in very uneasy situations, the love they have exchanged with one another, the bond they have built so tightly that surpassed all superficial right and wrong, and so on.
It was truly heart-breaking in the end when the little girl goes back to her biological mother's side. We see her reject the woman's offer of a new dress because she knows deep in her heart that motherly love is something that Ando has shown her, not a material excuse which serves as permission for physical abuse. What is family? What makes a mother, a father? These are questions that you will reconsider, and they are worth the thought because at a day and age where consumerism and capitalism are prominent, we often forget what true affection and relationships are.
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