Shoplifters
“Shoplifters,” from writer-director Hirokazu Koreeda, is another beautiful work of bruised, flawed humanity from the director of a movie that flattened me 13 years ago, “Nobody Knows.” In that film, an older son found himself responsible for the car of his siblings after their irresponsible mother leaves them alone, and never returns. In his new film, which won the Palm D’or at Cannes this year, another family is fending for itself, but this time as a result of its situation in society more than the neglect of others. It builds to a conclusion that over-complicates its fundamental ideas, but it still digs into some heart-wrenching emotions as children suffer the consequences of the mistakes of their parental figures.
The film begins with Osamu (Lily Franky) and his son, Shota (Kairi Jo), going into a store to shop for food. They aren’t going to pay for it, though, but rather, they’re going to steal everything, which they have down to a science. On their way home, however, they realize they forgot shampoo, and they come across a young girl who is outside her family’s apartment, alone, and hungry. The young girl is Yuri (Miyu Sasaki), and Osamu and Shota bring her home to give her some food. They share the home with older sister, Aki (Mayu Matsuoka), mother Nobuyo (Sakura Ando), and grandmother, Hatsue (Kirin Kiki). Though Osamu and Nobuyo have low-paying jobs, and Aki works at an adult entertainment establishment, their main source of income is the grandmother’s pension- they are actually living at her home in secret. While feeding Yuri, they discover bruises on her arms. They look to return her to her home, at first, but after hearing her mother and boyfriend yelling at one another, they decide to take her in as one of their own, showing her an affection she has not seen in her life.
Koreeda broke my heart with “Nobody Knows,” and its powerful story lifted from the headlines. “Shoplifters” is similarly inspired, but not by any story, in particular, and we get a larger picture of the world that this family is struggling to survive in, and while we can tell ourselves we would never act that way in our own lives, and condemn their actions, I do not feel particularly judgemental about how they have chosen to live their lives, and raise their kids. The way Osamu and Nobuyo take in Yuri, and treat her as if she is one of their own, shows them as having good hearts. As the story progresses, though, some cracks in the life they have made for themselves begin to form, and when a loved one dies, it starts to unravel their life in ways the children are not prepared for. Even if I’m not a fan of how the film concludes, it does remain firmly within the framework of themes that Koreeda is exploring here, which deal with how families are formed, and how sometimes, the one we choose for ourselves gives us more of a chance for love and survival than the one we are born into. Though it feels more calculated and manipulative than its predecessor, there’s no questioning the heart and soul Koreeda brings to his storytelling. It’s impossible not to be moved by his narratives, and the truth to life they bring to the screen.
