Busan 2023 Review: THE MOON, Rie Miyazawa is Magnetic in Drama that Finds Humanity in Unspeakable Tragedy

Yuya Ishii directs Rie Miyazawa, Joe Odagiri, Fumi Nikaido, and Hayato Isomura

Editor, Asia; Hong Kong, China (@Marshy00)
Busan 2023 Review: THE MOON, Rie Miyazawa is Magnetic in Drama that Finds Humanity in Unspeakable Tragedy
A grief-stricken author attempts to reconnect with society by taking a job at a nursing home for the severely disabled in Yuya Ishii’s compelling drama The Moon, inspired by a real-life Japanese tragedy and adapted from the novel by Yo Hemmi. Rie Miyazawa (Pale Moon) is sensational in the lead role, but is surrounded by an equally impressive ensemble that includes Joe Odagiri (Adrift in Tokyo), Fumi Nikaido (Why Don't You Play in Hell?), and Hayato Isomura (Tokyo Revengers). 
 
Yoko (Miyazawa) and her husband Shohei (Odagiri) are battling to keep their marriage on course following the death of their infant son due to a congenital heart disease. Yoko previously found success as a writer, publishing a celebrated novel about the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake. Since the death of her baby, however, she has been unable to put pen to paper, and as the primary bread winner for the household, is forced to take a job as a carer at a remote nursing home.
 
Situated deep in the forest, the hospital provides care for mentally and physically disabled patients. Yoko finds she is drawn to one patient in particular, Ki-chan, a woman born on the same day as her, who cannot see, hear, move or communicate in any discernible way. At the hospital she also meets a younger nurse, also named Yoko (Nikaido). She claims to be a fan of the older woman’s work, but later, after a few drinks, reveals strong criticisms about Yoko’s novel and how it seemed to sanitise the tragic events of the earthquake in order to appeal to a wider audience. 
 
Shohei works as a filmmaker, specialising in stop-motion animation, but has yet to find success. This puts further pressure on their relationship, but slowly Yoko feels she might have found a subject for a new novel - perceiving the world from the perspective of her catatonic patient, Ki-chan. 
 
As all of this plays out, their young colleague Sato (Isomura) begins to display disturbing behaviour. He questions whether these patients, who cannot live without their daily support and care, have souls or are in fact really human at all. Propelled forward by an unwavering sense of duty and justice, Sato feels compelled to do something about what he perceives to be an unjust burden upon the rest of society. 
 
Over the past few decades, Ishii has amassed an impressive body of work that regularly addresses the concerns and struggles of Japan’s disaffected youth. From early hits such as Sawako Decides to more recent offerings like The Tokyo Night Sky Is Always the Densest Shade of Blue, his films are populated by struggling loners existing on the fringes of society. In The Moon, he reveals that the staff and patients alike are wrestling to find acceptance and agency within their community, and that imbalance inevitably leads to tragedy. 
 
Although adapted from Yo Hemmi’s book, The Moon draws influence from a gruesome true story, one that also fuelled Chie Hayakawa’s short film PLAN75, part of the 2018 omnibus Ten Years Japan, which she then expanded into an excellent 2022 feature film also titled Plan 75. While Hayakawa used the tragedy as a jumping off point to explore a futuristic scenario whereby elderly citizens can opt for voluntary, state-sponsored euthanasia when they turn 75, Ishii’s film addresses the violent reality head on in its spine-chilling climax. 
 
While The Moon barely qualifies as a genre film, and in no way sensationalises the tragic events in question, Ishii’s film is never less than compelling. Miyazawa delivers an understated yet riveting performance, as a woman dealing with loss, but also an artist wrestling with the moral ramifications of drawing inspiration from those less fortunate than herself who are also unable to give any kind of formal consent. 
 
Inevitably the film raises some powerful arguments relating to healthcare oversight, but most importantly asks of its audience what it truly means to be alive, navigating the treacherous waters in a beautifully measured and assured fashion. 
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