nobody knows

a good film offers you a perspective to the world out there. it also offers the perspective of an alternate worldview. it arrests your attention because it draws your attention to a social concern that you wouldn't ordinarily pay any attention to.

in koreeda hirokazu's nobody knows, we get one such example.

based on a true story that unfolded in 1988, the film is based on 4 young children who were abandoned by their mother in suburban tokyo. the eldest, akira, is only 12, yet he has to bear the responsibility of ensuring the survival of his 3 younger brothers and sisters -- who are not even his blood siblings.

the film is mostly shot in the cramped apartment that becomes the children's universe as they are not allowed to venture outside. otherwise, they face the risk of being evicted because the landlord doesn't like too many kids around. the mother abandons them soon after, leaving 20000 yen for them to survive for what was initially an unspecified length of time.

for the proceeding one month, we see how as the money ran low and their childish restlessness got the better of them, their world began to collapse. the symbolism pervades in the way how their cramped apartment began to lose any semblence to any orderliness about it. and how akira, the eldest born, begin to drift away from his responsibilities mid way through.

the inexorability of life stuck out like a sore thumb. even as the children lose their mental equilibrium after having their childish exuberance subdued for too long, they are seemingly oblivious to the people and the world around them. this is excebated by their illegitimacy, their mother's selfish decision not to send any of them to school and how their world revolves around their clustrophobic apartment, the convenience store and later, when their water and electricity supplies get cut, the playground where they could collect free water from the public tap.

through it all, the children's maturity astounds. the film hits its climax when young yuki dies after a bad fall at home. she falls as she tip toes on a chair looking into the horizon, awaiting the return of her mother. the irony of this whole incident is heightened when akira was shown to be enjoying himself playing baseball while his sister falls at home. it is with sad irony that just when young akira was allowed to let the child in him come to the fore, the lack of his adult personna at home is an indirect cause of his sister's subsequent death.

akira later takes it upon himself and his new-found girlfriend, saki to pack yuki into the pink luggage that their mother packed her into -- in order to transport her to the apartment without any unnecessary attention. both of them then roll this luggage through the massively busy subway station as akira wants to fulfill a promise he made to yuki on her birthday to go see the aeroplanes at haneda airport. through the night, akira and saki digs yuki's grave by the airport and buries the pink luggage with yuki in it.

the actor who played akira, yagira yuya, won the best actor award at the cannes film festival in 2004. and rightfully so. the ensemble cast impresses with their uncanny abilities to feed off each other. kitauya ayu plays kyoko -- the elder sister, kimura hiei plays the youngest bratish brother shigeru and the children's irresponsible mother who leaves them to start a new life with a new man is played by japanese songstress, you, in her cinematic debut. shumizu momoko plays the immensely kawaii little yuki, while saki is played by 12-year old kan hirae who bears an uncanny resemblence to singapore's table tennis queen li jiawei.

as the film draws to a close with a reminder of the inexorability of the children's existence as they go about their daily routine with apparent stoicism -- as if with nary any emotional impact on the children. it leaves you however, with an unquenchable thirst to find out what eventually happened to the children in real life.

what happened to them when someone finally did know about them.