Representing life as it is could be seen as a challenge for many artists, but someone who has the insatiable capacity to understand humanity and convey his unique grasp of the human spirit is Hirokazu Kore-eda, a filmmaker I have praised on other occasions as being one of the finest filmmakers of his generation, and quite possibly the finest living Japanese director, someone who has inherited the legacy of the great masters such as Akira Kurosawa and Yasujirō Ozu. The latter, in particular, is of interest in regards to Kore-eda, as he has perpetually dispelled notions that he is the natural successor to the great Japanese realist, dismissing the idea that he is the cinematic reincarnation of Ozu. Those comparisons, to their merit, were borne out of Kore-eda’s talent for representing life, breaking it down to its most simple core, and showing all the intricate minutiae that, when put together, make up the fascinating fabric of human existence. I adored two of his more well-regarded films, Still Walking and Nobody Knows, and I thought it was a good time to take a journey into Kore-eda’s magnificent vision of Japanese society for a third time, with the tremendous After the Storm (Japanese: 海よりもまだ深 or Umi yori mo Mada Fukaku). Honestly, while it cannot compare to the unrestrained brilliance of some of Kore-eda’s other work, including the two aforementioned films, it has its charms and finds a rare emotional resonance that very few contemporary films can ever come close to achieving. It may not be one of the director’s major works, but it is certainly another great addition to his amazing filmography.

Ryota (Hiroshi Abe) is a once-acclaimed novelist, known for a particularly famous novel, The Empty Table, who has now faded from public consciousness, due to possibly peaking with the success of his first novel, and the fact that he cannot bring himself to ever matching the same quality of work, with his gambling addiction and laziness coming in between the creation of another masterpiece. His wife, Kyoko (Yōko Maki) recently divorced him, taking their son, Shingo (Taiyô Yoshizawa) with her, leaving Ryota to only see his son on their scheduled, mandatory monthly visits (not that he puts too much effort into seeing him beyond this, but he is never too far out of his son’s life). To keep himself afloat, Ryota works as a private detective, working as an investigator-for-hire for suspicious spouses who want evidence that their better-halves are unfaithful. Ryota also occasionally convinces his elderly mother (Kirin Kiki) to give him money, which she is more than happy to do, especially due to the recent death of her husband and Ryota’s father. However, as his money starts to wear thin, and he starts to realize his compulsive gambling and lazy behavior is going to cause his already-turbulent relationship with his son to become non-existent. He devises a plan to somehow win his son’s affections, as well as attempting to show his ex-wife that he is a good man, in the hopes that she will take him back. However, how does the past impinge upon the present and influence the future, especially those actions and events that cannot be reversed, with consequences that one has to live with?

Hiroshi Abe is a great everyman actor, and in his third collaboration with Kore-eda, and the second in the main role (after Still Walking in 2008), the actor continues to prove himself to be a paragon of simplistic, subtle acting, playing flawed but endearing characters who deal with their hardships in a way that is nothing short of admirably tenacious, even when their imperfections prevent them from acting in the most moral of ways. Ryota (also the name of his character in Still Walking, which makes me wonder whether it was purely a coincidence, or something implanted by Kore-eda to make some subtle message) is a complex character, someone who isn’t inherently likable, but is bound by his relentless humanity, possessing the same flaws as many of us, which are precisely what make him such a realistic character. Yōko Maki, playing Ryota’ ex-wife, is terrific. She gives a varied, layered performance, and the nuance she brings to this character is astonishing – she is vulnerable, perhaps even proud, when her potential beau admits to having read Ryota’s novel (and being disappointed when he subsequently – and obviously – admits to not liking it very much), but then can show fierce defiance and strong independence in the moments where she needs to defend her honour and the honour of her son, who she feels may fall into the same endless mediocrity of his father, who he truly admires. Kirin Kiki, who is quite simply a delight in everything she is in, is wonderful as the caring grandmother, and just like she did in the same kind of role in Still Walking, she brings broad humor and warmth to the film, but gives a performance that far extends that of simply being an archetypal grandmother figure, but one that brings pathos to the story, with some of her moments, whether overt or delicately subtle, being stark statements of profound meaning. Like in previous works, Kore-eda assembles a capable cast in After the Storm, and while it may not be as ensemble-focused as other films (being relatively intent on showing the four central characters and their interactions with each other and a set of peripheral characters who aren’t too consequential to the story), everyone works well together, and play their parts with considerable skill and deft authenticity.

Kore-eda is a great humanist filmmaker, but it is not enough to simply reduce his films to being representations of life without any commentary on what it is showing. In all of his films, Kore-eda focuses on particular aspects of society, showing these characters navigating difficult circumstances, whatever they may be. After the Storm places Ryota, our protagonist, in situations that are not enviable by any logical person – his father has recently died, his wife has divorced him and has started seeing a man who is much more of a husband and a father than he ever was, he’s afflicted by an unshakable gambling addiction, and he feels unequivocally alone, not having a single soul who he can connect with on a meaningful level, guided by his own selfish ambitions and evasion of hard work. Kore-eda has never flinched in conveying difficult subject matter in his films, and while he may not touch on issues quite as serious as those in some of his other films – one just needs to look at the emotionally-wrenching Nobody Knows to understand how tame After the Storm actually is – he does construct a story of a man doing his best to survive, to overcome the various challenges he has encountered, whether those purely by chance or those that are self-imposed by his own inherent shortcomings as a person. Ryota is a troubled man, but he is not a bad person. He may have been a flawed husband and an absent father, but he is a genuine, honest person, and After the Storm is centered around his attempts to overcome these traits and show those who he cares for that anyone is capable of change, in the hopes that they will accept him as having improved himself, and somehow change their perspective of him, giving him a second chance. Herein lies the most complex of Kore-eda’s beliefs that he regularly inserts into his films: sometimes, as hard as one tries, things don’t turn out the way one would expect, and life goes on. The key is to understand this, and learn to live with it, coming to terms with the fact that there isn’t always an ideal ending to even the most hardworking individuals, but why worry about not achieving the result at the end if one can gain so much experience from the introspective journey to that point?

Many filmmakers, regardless of how diverse their films are, usually focus on one grand narrative, even if it isn’t particularly overt. Kore-eda regularly looks at one overarching concept, which informs many of his works, and remains a poignant and potent theme throughout After the Storm: family. I believe the reason why the director’s works have become so acclaimed is because they are extremely resonant with most viewers. Kore-eda is an unabashedly Japanese filmmaker, and while his films are narratively rooted in his home country, they are thematically universal, with his depiction of family being powerful in its moving simplicity. After the Storm is a family drama, but one that is entirely void of melodrama or anything artificial or insincere. It is built upon interactions between family members, where resonant ideas such as parent-child relationships – whether it be Ryota with Shingo or Ryota with his mother – and marriage are looked upon with meticulous sensitivity. Family is a subject that literature has readily embraced, and Kore-eda’s films (while not always focused on family) have given warm, endearing attention to the idiosyncrasies of a conventional family that is always made extraordinary through the lens of Kore-eda’s keen eye. After the Storm may not be as profound in terms of looking at family as previous films, but it makes some powerful statements and has a poignant message to the value of family at its core.

Please excuse the hyperbole, but Kore-eda is a cinematic savior, someone who has fundamentally shaken my understanding of what cinema is and can be. His films are not particularly innovative, and After the Storm sometimes feels like a conventional family drama, albeit one with a potent message governing the story. Yet, the filmmaker shows himself to be capable of unseen representations of family, as well as focusing on the difficult concept of individuality – what does it mean to exist, especially in a contemporary world? I found After the Storm didn’t hit the high notes I have come to expect from the masterful filmmaker, but it is still an astonishing film, a delicate, heartbreaking and occasionally affectionately hilarious look into the lives of a group of people that are both bound and liberated by the same fact: they are all undeniably, relentlessly human, filled with flaws, insecurities and anxieties, and only through careful introspection and reflection to how they interact with others can they come to understand both themselves and those that are in their lives. After the Storm is an exercise in subtle humanist filmmaking, borne from the mind of one of our greatest living storytellers, who weaves yet another memorable, moving masterpiece.