THE STORY – Yuta arrives at a remote rural town in the island of Kyushu to take care of his fastidious father-in-law Makoto, a photographer recovering from a leg fracture. While assisting at Makoto’s traditional photo studio, where portraits are carefully composed to endure, Yuta stays connected to his wife Yuki and daughter Hana in Tokyo through spontaneous and casual smartphone videos.
THE CAST – Tasuku Emoto, Issey Ogata & Moeka Hoshi
THE TEAM – Miiku Sakanishi (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 97 Minutes
There’s a reason why they say a picture’s worth a thousand words. Inside each captured image are priceless memories of people, the world around them, and what led to that shot. People’s relationships to this storied medium are at the heart of Miiku Sakanishi’s gentle directorial debut “Memorizu,” which, much like a photograph, captures everyday moments and allows viewers to live in each one. It’s tender and introspective, much like the works of Hirokazu Kore-eda and Edward Yang, and inspires all of us to open our eyes to the beauty in our surroundings.
Some memories begin at the end, as Yuta (Tasuku Emoto), his wife Yuki (Moeka Hoshi), and their daughter Hana are about to be apart for 60 days. He has to help his injured father-in-law, Makoto (Issey Ogata), run his photo studio, and it’s clear no one wants to be away from each other for that long. Within the opening moments of this film, there’s so much tenderness to be found — Yuta telling Hana how long he’ll be away (just 60 sleeps and breakfasts), encouraging her to do her best at school, and showing the couple take sweet photos and videos of each other so that they have memories to relive whenever they need a piece of home. At times, the perspective shifts from Sakanishi’s lens to an iPhone video, giving the film a homey feel that recurs throughout.
Once the film transitions to the countryside in Kyushu, Sakanishi’s film becomes a living painting, with shots of towering mountains, vast fields, and the beauty of everyday life. As Yuta settles into Makoto’s life, which includes walking his dog and doing tasks around his photo studio, Sakanishi takes the time to capture all of it. The morning walks he and the dog go on become a ritual for viewers, offering them a chance to unwind and take in this serene environment. Whereas most would speed past these routines in subsequent scenes, the director diligently showcases the same neighborhoods, fields, and people so we can fully be in the moment and gain something new each time. It’s a powerful reminder that there is so much to enjoy in this life and even the most insignificant days can be profoundly beautiful. Occasionally, Yuta will stop and take videos of signs or anything that reminds him of his two girls at home. Even though it’s a simple gesture, it has so much heart: having someone think of you and want to share those quiet moments, no matter the distance, is so touching. Though we don’t spend quite as much time with Yuki, we see little glimpses of her life, including leading city tours for Chinese tourists. Again, Sakanishi lets the camera take it all in. Some viewers might not get much excitement from this, but the film is uncompromising in its portrayal of life’s stillness.
As Yuta and Makoto learn to coexist with each other, a tenderness grows between them. They might not say much to each other, but it’s the little things, again, that mean a great deal. It’s Makoto offering Yuta a jacket so that he’s not cold on his morning walks; it’s Yuta always by Makoto’s side whenever they’re out somewhere. Emoto and Ogata make these characters feel so lived-in that one could watch them go about their days for hours on end. The most tender scenes are when Yuta and Makoto are out on assignment for school pictures and a wedding shoot, and the student gets to see the master at work. Makoto knows exactly how to get “the shot” for a photograph and put someone at ease – like making silly faces to get kids to smile or bringing up old stories to make a nervous couple laugh. As Yuta observes him, he gets to put those skills to work later on, which is so endearing to watch. It’s also so interesting to see how they capture memories in different ways, one with an old-school camera and the other with a high-tech phone. The film doesn’t favor one over the other; instead, it just seems happy that people are taking the time to remember life in all its glory.
Those who have grown fond of “slice of life” films such as Kore-eda’s “Still Walking” and Yang’s “Yi Yi” will find much to appreciate in Sakanishi’s “Memorizu.” The film feels like a warm hug as it reminds us to slow down, take it all in, and preserve as many memories as we can, whether through our own quiet experiences or ones we share with others. Sakanishi shows such remarkable confidence in his feature debut that he’s already made himself one to watch in the future.
