Review of Shoplifters (2018) by Isaacj — 01 Jan 2019

Hirokazu Kore-eda has been heralded as an unsung hero of current direction, a modern day Yasujiro Ozu, who has seen success both in his home country of Japan and overseas. His new picture, Shoplifters, has garnered widespread critical acclaim, winning the coveted Palme D'Or at the 2018 Cannes Film Festival.

Having seen this film, I can only say that Shoplifters is thoroughly deserving of its praise; here, Kore-eda has succeeded in crafting a subtle, yet affecting film, detailing the story of a band of marginalised thieves, forced to shoplift to get by in a poverty-stricken corner of Tokyo.

What is perhaps most striking about Shoplifters is how it manages to be so profound, yet at the same time being so understated. Like many of the director's films, family lies at the heart of this, though in often darker and more twisted ways than one might expect. Osamu (played with a **** edge by Lily Franky) and his wife, Nobuyo (a captivating Sakura Ando) are exploitative both in their relationship with the elderly Hatsue (Kirin Kiki), whose pension they abuse, and with the young waifs they take in (kidnap or save? this is left suitably ambiguous). There is a definite air of darkness that hangs about the film, yet, even in the bleakest moments, there is a tenderness too, with many scenes showing the endearing ways in which the "family" bond with and depend on eachother, especially after taking in the abused youngster, Yuri (Miyu Sasaki).

The picture is also beautifully shot, Ryuto Kondo's artistic cinematography assuaging the drama and aiding the film's subtlety and beauty. Most scenes are long and languid, the dialogue effortless and naturalistic and executed by a talented and, even against the odds, likeable ensemble. Credit should also be given to Shoplifters for never glossing over its themes; young Aki's employment in a hostess club and the abuse suffered by Yuri lie in the background, understated, yet profoundly affecting. The themes of the film are complex, blurring the lines of morality and responsibility, yet it never feels heavy; Kore-eda is letting his audience form their own opinion about the issues represented. What Shoplifters may lack in clear plot, it makes up for in rich and fleshed out characters and sharp writing, which ranges from witty to silently poignant. The film rambles a little in a more cluttered third act, but this is made up by an utterly heart-breaking coda.