Author’s note: It happens every year, without fail. In a matter of days after posting my year-end “best of” list, I see a movie that would have certainly made the list. As much as I’d love to be able to see every movie that comes out, it’s an impossibility for me until someone starts paying me to do this. So, with that being said, here’s my late-to-the-party review of Shoplifters, a late addition to the best films of 2018.
Hirokazu Kore-eda makes very good movies. They aren’t complicated affairs, they’re not pretentious, they aren’t even that flashy – but what they are is relatable across cultures. He manages this by tapping into a dynamic that is understandable to anyone in any country: family. The families he portrays usually aren’t typical ones, but this is of little consequence because who’s family really is? His characters don’t always adhere to familial archetypes, but they do adhere to recognizable human emotions, making them easy to understand. In his latest film, Shoplifters, Kore-eda examines what the true meaning of family is and suggests that blood has little to do with it.
A poor but happy family lives in a cramped apartment in Tokyo. Between petty crime, odd jobs, and a pension, the troupe makes ends meet, but just barely. One night, upon returning home from a shoplifting spree, family patriarch Osamu (Lily Franky) and the young Shota (Kairi Jō) find a young girl (Miyu Sasaki) locked out of her apartment. Worried she might freeze, they bring her home. After signs of abuse are discovered, the family – which includes Osamu’s wife, Nobuyo (Sakura Ando), a teenager named Aki (Mayu Matsuoka), and the elderly Hatsue (Kirin Kiki) – decide to keep her with them rather than send her back home to face more mistreatment.
What follows is both an examination of how the family makes money, and an exploration of the nature of family itself. As nontraditional as they may be, it works for them, and nobody has any complaints. They are a jovial group, who look out for and care deeply for one another. In one very touching scene, Nobuyo explains to Lin – the newest and youngest member of the family – how a family is supposed to treat each other. Soon, everyone gathers in the tiny courtyard to see some fireworks. There is only a small sliver of visibility, but at that moment we see them all looking up into the sky as content as any family could possibly be. It’s in these small moments that Kore-eda excels, creating a special bond between audience and subject.
The nature of their lifestyle necessitates an inevitable downturn in luck. Once things begin to go haywire, a lot is divulged quickly. I won’t reveal what this may be, and maybe you’ll have guessed (there are plenty of clues), but you won’t guess it all. I won’t go so far as calling Shoplifters tragic, but if you’re familiar with Kore-eda’s work, you should be prepared for some potentially strong emotion. If you’re not familiar with his work, you’ve been warned. While not a tearjerker (there’s too much lightness and humor for that), some of the revelations may hit home. The simple humanity of the film and the care given to ensuring we’ve grown to care about these characters makes the outcome an effective, albeit melancholy one.
Hirokazu Kore-eda is one of the best filmmakers working today. Go see his films! He’s proof that cinema has no borders, as his stories and characters are relevant and relatable no matter the country of origin. I can’t stress this enough. Shoplifters is only the latest in an impressive list of amazing films dating back to the 90s (the first one I saw was 2004’s Nobody Knows – and it blew me away). Kore-eda’s filmography is stacked with stellar performances and emotional satisfaction. Shoplifters is no different – if you’re into that sort of thing.
James is a writer, record collector, wrestling nerd, and tabletop gamer living with his family in Asheville, North Carolina. He is a member of the Southeastern Film Critics Association, the North Carolina Film Critics Association, and contributes to The Daily Orca, Razorcake Magazine, Mountain Xpress, and Asheville Movies.