THE STORY – In post-war Japan’s economic boom, gangster family-born Kikuo Tachibana finds himself adopted by a kabuki actor. Despite life’s challenges, he develops into a gifted performer.
THE CAST – Ryo Yoshizawa, Ryusei Yokohama, Ken Watanabe, Sōya Kurokawa & Keitatsu Koshiyama
THE TEAM – Lee Sang-il (Director) & Satoko Okudera (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 175 Minutes
There’s something that continues to compel us about the pursuit of artistic greatness. These stories have remained a staple of film since its inception. Films like “A Star is Born,” “The Red Shoes,” and “The Great Ziegfeld” depict artists who so desperately want to be at the top of their fields that they lose loved ones and even face financial ruin just to have a chance at success. It’s a major reason music biopics have continued to attract mass audiences; seeing the rise and fall (and hopefully rise again) still fascinates, even when we’ve seen a hundred versions of this story before. Director Lee Sang-il (“Unforgiven,” “Hula Girls”) brings another entry to this canon with “Kokuho,” Japan’s 2025 submission for the Academy Award for Best International Feature Film. While the familiar elements of artistic pursuit are present, “Kokuho” offers a glimpse of an art form many Western audiences rarely get to see: kabuki. The film bridges the hunger for artistic greatness with the beauty of a tradition rarely explored outside Japan. It’s a decades-spanning epic that beautifully captures the legacy and dedication of this craft over the course of an entire career.
“Kokuho” opens in Nagasaki in 1964, when Kikuo, played as a teenager by Sōya Kurokawa (“Monster“), portrays a geisha in a small kabuki performance. The son of a yakuza boss, kabuki isn’t in Kikuo’s blood. Still, he attracts the attention of Hanai Hanjiro II (“The Last Samurai’s” Ken Watanabe), considered the city’s greatest kabuki performer. After Kikuo’s parents are murdered in a brutal attack that same evening, he initially looks to avenge them, trying and failing to kill the gang member responsible. Soon, Hanai intervenes, taking Kikuo under his wing in his kabuki company, where he bonds with Hanai’s son, Shunsuke (played by Keitatsu Koshiyama as a teenager).
While Japanese audiences may not need a refresher on kabuki, “Kokuho” does a tremendous job of helping viewers unfamiliar with the art form understand its essential nuances. The opening text explains that kabuki began in the 17th century and that women were banned from performing in theaters, leading to the honored tradition of men performing female roles. Sang-il’s reverence for tradition invites newcomers into a centuries-old experience. Each extended performance in the film opens with a title card and description of the scene, which further immerses the viewer in the performers’ world. It also illuminates how these storylines mirror Kikuo’s struggles and desires. Sang-il captures the performances with great reverence and beauty, showcasing the seriousness with which these actors operate. While a film like “Whiplash” conveys the pressure to perform perfectly through intensity, “Kokuho” illustrates that desire for perfection through quiet precision.
The film’s title, “Kokuho,” translates to “National Treasure.” In Japan, many artists are selected as “Living National Treasures” for their invaluable contributions to art and culture, and are subsidized for their work. As the title for Kikuo’s story, it doubles down on the goals he sets for himself, aiming not simply to be good, but to literally become a National Treasure.
Played in adulthood by Ryo Yoshizawa (“Kingdom”), Kikuo continues to train under Hanjiro alongside Shunsuke (portrayed by Ryusei Yokohama as an adult), who is a stark contrast to Kikuo. Where Kikuo is dedicated and reserved, Shunsuke shows up late after partying. In kabuki, fathers pass the craft down to their sons. Bloodline is deeply important. Yet it is clear right away which of the two Hanjiro believes in more, setting up a rivalry between the son and the mentee. This rivalry deepens over time, especially as Hanjiro gets older and must choose which of the two boys will succeed him at his renowned company.
Part of the power of “Kokuho” comes from the passage of time. Lesser films would condense this struggle for greatness into a short period or even just a few years. Here, Sang-il captures the story across an entire lifetime, following Kikuo from 14 years old all the way into his sixties, taking carefully placed time jumps of about eight years each. These leaps in time flow naturally with the pace of the storytelling. “Kokuho” is not as interested in the passage of time in Japan or what is happening in the outside world. It is instead focused on the artist’s transformation over time. In the same way that kabuki holds tightly to traditions passed down over generations, Kikuo grows into this mold as a performer over the decades. Much like the precision we see in the kabuki performances throughout the movie, the film unfolds at a measured pace but is no less engaging. While Yoshizawa does not necessarily look like he is in his sixties by the end, the nearly three-hour runtime allows us to spend enough time watching this boy turn into an incredible performer. Like the best biopics, fictional or not, “Kokuho” allows us to see the immense growth and challenge of a life lived in pursuit of something greater than oneself.
Even so, Satoko Okudera’s script becomes overly familiar and melodramatic along the way. Like so many biopics, or films in the style of biopics, there is a rise and fall for the artist. Kikuo comes from a wildly different background and rises to greatness thanks to Hanjiro’s love for him, though it is not a clear upward trajectory. Further, the sibling rivalry between Kikuo and Shunsuke, though well executed, lacks freshness. We have seen this story play out far too many times. It is a “Prince and the Pauper” sort of story, with the wealthy heir to a kabuki legacy facing off with the orphan. Regardless, these stories are told so often because they are effective, and “Kokuho” still has surprises up its sleeve. The back-and-forth between Kikuo and Shunsuke as they vie for Hanjiro’s honor and for their own art is captivating and tragic in equal measure.
The craft itself draws us in as well, thanks to cinematographer Sofian El Fani’s patient eye. Vivid, warm, golden hues bring this world to life. Each kabuki sequence is lush and revelatory, allowing even those less familiar with the art form to sense the reverence through the frame. Marihiko Hara’s strings-heavy score pairs perfectly with the imagery. There is a sense of movement and ascent throughout the film. There is also a lovely original song at the end of the film, “Luminance,” that caps the story nicely. Not only is it beautiful, but the cinematography and score reinforce the importance of these performances and why Kikuo, Shunsuke, and Hanjiro have dedicated their lives to them.
In the hands of a lesser performer, Kikuo could have been too wooden, but Yoshizawa fills him with quiet perseverance and dedication. Sang-il maintains a separation between Kikuo and the camera, preventing us from perceiving the performer’s inner thoughts. Keeping us at arm’s length, the character becomes a bit of a cipher. Is his desire for greatness pure? Does he want to usurp Shunsuke, or does he simply step into opportunity when it comes his way? Yoshizawa holds all these possibilities behind a still exterior, keeping them tight with the same rigor and care he exerts in his kabuki performances. Even with heavy makeup on stage and performing through precise movements, we can still perceive the emotion underneath. It makes those rare moments when his heart takes hold of him all the more impactful. When disappointment or failure hits, it is devastating.
Separating “Kokuho” from most stories of artists striving for greatness is Sang-il’s commitment to capturing kabuki’s physicality. The filmmaker reminds us that greatness often comes from intense dedication as much as from the people around you. It is the art form itself, not just Kikuo’s internal desire, that makes his story worthwhile. The admiration for the legacy of kabuki is incredibly moving. It is no wonder “Kokuho” has already been a breakout hit in Japan, earning a strong box-office performance there. Even more impressive is the reported increase in kabuki ticket sales over the previous year, a tribute to the power of Sang-il’s storytelling, which will continue to resonate for years through this film.
