Radical Compassion
Director sho MIyake stakes his claim as one of Japan’s cinematic psychologists, and if not that, at least its social conscience.
Sho Miyake
Hokkaido-born writer-director Sho Mikyake is sitting in a hotel room in TST, right before he rushes off to close the 2024 edition of HKIFF at the Cultural Centre with his latest film, All the Long Nights. He’s relaxed, rattling off jokes with his producer and translator, decked out in his signature beanie. At roughly 40, Miyake isn’t a newbie filmmaker. His short films and contributions to television series came after he made his feature debut in 2010 (Good for Nothing) or the Locarno entry Playback, a black and white time-travelling do-over drama from 2012, whichever you prefer. He’s been invited to Berlin, and he’s worked for Netflix, but it was his COVID-inspired boxing drama Small, Slow But Steady (2022) that really launched him onto the world stage. In that film Keiko, a hearing-impaired woman with aspirations to being a pro boxer, has those aspirations threatened by the pandemic and the possible closure of her gym and its owner’s illness. Steady was a small wonder: unsentimental despite its potential for mawkishness, clear-eyed and unapologetic about its thorny subject in Keiko, triumphant in that sports movie way but never condescending about its triumphs. It instantly put Miyake at the top of the list of Japan’s most astute directors willing to turn the lens on contemporary society. He’s quickly turned into Japan’s collective psychologist and the go-to filmmaker for stories about people who are a little bit broken or a little bit distanced from the mainstream.
“Oh, no no, that’s surprising. That’s the first time I heard that,” Miyake guffaws at the suggestion, before considering the reason he’s drawn to characters like Keiko, or the pair in All the Long Nights, Misa and Takatoshi. He doesn’t have a sister with mad PMS or a brother with panic disorder, but the characters got him thinking about Japan’s outsiders again. “Well, they are outside society but for me, that wasn’t the main point. I think they’re about resilience. Keiko and Misa and Takatoshi are strong despite their ‘shortcomings’, be it deafness, or PMS or panic disorder. They prove these are not obstacles to a good life,” he says. “Japanese society is not very healthy, and I hope some of those other themes come out as well.”
For all its eventual affection and sunny images – shot in homey 16mm and often washed in a soft glow – Miyake keeps his camera at a cool medium distance. We first see Misa in the rain at a bus stop, “And some may have chosen a close-up for her discomfort, but I think that’s nonsense. This is the first time we see her, and I wanted her in context of the larger reality she lives in and to see what was happening to her – and how people react,” Miyake states. From that moment on All the Long Nights demonstrates a prickly edge the could easily alienate audiences. Misa suffers from extra-tough PMS that often leads to extreme reactions to minor office events, and Takatoshi is in the grips of a nearly debilitating panic disorder that prevents him from getting on subway trains and getting a haircut. Miyake threads the needle between making sure we understand them both, without ever judging us as an audience for being put off by their behaviour. The same held for Keiko. None of Miyake’s characters have been particulary pleasant, which makes the celebration of their mundane lives that much trickier, because ultimately that’s what Nights is about. And that soft, sunny photography celebrates not just the mundane, but the struggles within that.
“Keiko just didn’t know how to communicate with other people, and this time I wanted to see Misa and Takatoshi actively trying to think about how to live tomorrow, the day after, everyday, and also how to do right by themselves too,” Miyake argues. In the same way the film doesn’t judge the audience, it doesn’t judge its characters, and remains unbending in its compassion for them. Nights frequently recalls Hirokazu Kore-eda, especially his breakout film Nobody Knows, Shinji Aoyama (Eureka) and Japanese master of the mundane, Yasujiro Ozu (Tokyo Story) in its tone and respect for humanity, not surprising considering Miyake counts them among his influences. “With all of them, their films are very emotional and warm but there’s always a thread of sadness inside them. I think they imprinted on me in some ways.”
And alienating viewers is a distinct possibility given the lack of romance in All the Long Nights and the increasing expectation of it in some circles. It’s an independent film, and Miyake and co-writer Kiyoto Wada only made two changes from Maiko Seo’s book – the book’s nondescript factory became the science equipment manufacturer to boost the cosmic metaphor, and in the end Misa stays with the small company – but fortunately he was neither tempted nor pressured to hook Misa and Takatoshi up by the end. Like some of us, Miyake is perplexed by recent narrative film trends that won’t allow their leads to be pals. Expressing vitriolic distain for romance gets another big laugh. “I like romantic movies, I really do,” he explains between chuckles. “I’m watching one right now. But there was really no need for these two people to have a romantic relationship. They can still be happy and live good lives apart or alone. If a producer had tried to convince me of that I would have quit.”
It may come as no surprise that after two spectaculary introverted, thoughtful dramas about the small moments in life Miyake is hoping to try something on the multiplex side of things rather than the art house. “I would like to do a movie where something big happens,” he laughs again. “Maybe something that doesn’t take place now – maybe historical.” How about an adventure with samurais in wheelchairs… in space? “Okay!” Okay. — DEK
Where we were
The Mira Hong Kong, TST • Hong Kong International Film Festival
Hong Kong • April 7, 2024