This year marked the 10th anniversary of the earthquake and tsunami hitting the Tohoku region of Japan. Recently, I watched the film "Voices in the Wind" as part of the Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Center advertising and featuring it as part of their virtual events. As a disclaimer, this post will not be baseball related if you couldn't already tell.
Haru, now 17, is shown living with her aunt Hiroko in Kure, Hiroshima and has gone through a life living with her since the tragedy. A state of uncertainty comes, as she is a senior in high school and not sure what to do after graduation when asked the question. One day, Hiroko falls to the ground and is in the hospital.
Initially reluctant to make a trip Otsuchi when asked by Hiroko, her mind changes on a whim, but with a lack of confidence. Her hitchhiking journey meets several others who have their baggage and questions on life, but give reason for hope.
These groups include a middle-aged man living with his mother who is suffering from dementia to pair of a brother and sister, where the latter is pregnant as a single mother. Lastly, she finds a man named Morio who lost his wife, child and his home was damaged in the Earthquake and Tsunami while working in the nuclear plant up in Fukushima prefecture.
This film is a coming of age story, but it shows that even though the natural disaster happened several years ago, the pain, both physically and emotionally are still there. Haru's grief never materialized and it took this journey to Otsuchi to find some closure. Eventually, she reaches the famous phone for the climax scene with a one-sided conversation with her family.
Director Nobuhiro Suwa returned to his home country with his first work in Japan since 2002. What stands out about this film is the few cuts and long takes in one shot. Several times, he's using the elements of silence or lack of sound to fit into the emotion with grief and uncertainty.
In the final scene, Suwa put extreme faith in Motola by having her speak into the unplugged phone for several minutes, uncut. Majority of this film has allowed actors to improvise and go freely with a still shot staying there beyond a normal 5-10 seconds.
For something so simple, Suwa's direction is minimalist, but effective in bringing the tone of Haru's character throughout the film. Sometimes she is standing at a distance while being reluctant or confused, bringing symbolism to her nature.
Gone are the distractions of the outside world. The audience can experience the same level of despair Haru has when she's seen alone in silence or openly frustrated when her family isn't with her.
Some in the West might say these scenes will drag too long, but it's exactly the point why Suwa went with this direction. When we lose something permanently, grieving doesn't happen overnight and Haru's situation is no different.
Nothing can turn back the hands of time, but Haru's journey in this film is a sign of hope. The groups of people Haru encounters on her path to Otsuchi are also going through struggles of loss and uncertainty, but they don't give up on life.
The pregnant mother was 43, yet she has a vibe of optimism in bringing life to the world. The man who lives with his dementia prone mother lost his sister to suicide while Morio lives in his vehicle despite the trauma of losing his family and damaged home. All three subconsciously push Haru to drive for something and a purpose in life.
Suicide has been a common way of death in Japan among younger people and only sprouted further with the COVID-19 pandemic. Haru would have been one of those in youth struggling and just going through the motions.
We don't move on from tragedy, however, we must move through it and finding closure in a manner that Haru and 30,000+ people have since 2011 are a reason for hope.
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You can see the trailer here.
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