“What makes a family?” – this was apparently the question that served as the impetus for Hirokazu Kore-eda’s masterful Shoplifters (Japanese: 万引き家族), a beautiful character-driven drama that once again sees the maestro venturing into the realm of social realism, delivering one of the most profoundly moving films of the past few years, and an utter triumph in a multitude of ways. Very much aligned with the director’s previous work in films such as Nobody Knows, Still Walking and Like Father, Like Son, this is an astoundingly brilliant piece that looks at the concept of family, albeit from a slightly different perspective. We’ve all undoubtedly heard the adage of “you can’t choose your family”, an idea that Kore-eda vehemently disagrees with through the making of Shoplifters, a film that dares to show how it isn’t always blood that bonds us, but rather shared experiences, common goals and certain situations that motivate us to survive, regardless of how we do it. A film that fits in well with the rest of the director’s extraordinary career, but being just different enough to not simply be seen as another one of his intimate family dramas, Shoplifters is a true masterpiece, a film that delights in one moment, and absolutely breaks your heart in another. Kore-eda has once again developed an unforgettable example of meaningful social realism in a way only he can, managing to capture the nuance of life in such extraordinarily empathetic intimacy, and if that isn’t indicative of a filmmaker who not only understands his craft but also existence itself, then absolutely nothing is.

Shoplifters is a very simple film that harbours a lot of complex themes beneath its very resonant story. It isn’t necessarily new territory for Kore-eda, who has seemingly mastered these kinds of stories, but without ever displaying any sense of becoming predictable. The focus of this film is family, which is a relatively common factor in all of the director’s work – the difference is that his approach here is a lot more complex, and he is quite discerning in how he distances this film from the notion that a family needs to consist of actual blood relations. The family at the core of this film is far from traditional – they’re a mismatched collection of ragged outcasts rejected by society and drawn together as a result of their own social position that leads them to find salvation with others, becoming part of a chosen family that may be unconventional, but is no less loving. Kore-eda challenges the idea that a real family consists of blood relations – in Shoplifters, these individuals are not related in any way, but come to find comfort through building their own familial unit, providing support and helping each other, whether it’s through providing a hot meal or saving a young victim of abuse. It’s extremely devastating work, but finds its footing not in emotional manipulation, but in its subtle and beautiful approach to representing life – family is a concept that art has often been intent on representing, as this is often the strongest relationship any of us experience: the difference is that Kore-eda never once restricts this to relatives, but to any group of individuals who find solace in the presence of others, and with whom we can navigate this uncertain world.

The roots of the story run deeper than this. Much like we’ve come to expect from Kore-eda, the simple premise of Shoplifters is buttressed by some profoundly moving social commentary that gives the film the opportunity to not only be a touching story of family, but an astonishing cultural artefact, a reflection on society that shows its small idiosyncrasies in such breathtaking beauty, giving us unfettered access into culture and its various practices, as well as the trials and tribulations people on one side of the economic spectrum have to endure every day. Kore-eda has always been someone who has infused his films with a sense of social realism, and Shoplifters is not an exception, being a representation of the beauty of existence in only its finest form. It is a raw and intimate film, whose approach to its such matter is extraordinarily heartfelt without ever being cloying or artificial in any way – the film relishes in how thought-provoking and complex it is, without ever being pretentious or mawkish. The director’s dedication to completely unwavering authenticity is a distinctive feature of his career and has never been more evident than it is here. The plight of the main characters in Shoplifters is never easy to experience – this is a film that does take on the heavy burden of presenting us with a group of individuals who suffer as a result of their social position, which places them at a natural disadvantage due to institutionalized issues beyond the control of people like them. Yet, it never feels excessive or overwrought, and Kore-eda makes exceptional use of uncomfortable empathy in how he weaves together this modest but eloquent portrayal of the human condition.

Kore-eda’s delivery of the story is almost as brilliant as the premise itself, as we see the masterful auteur once again utilizing a self-determined set of constraints in how he brings these ideas to life. The unimpeachable simplicity and tranquil sincerity represent a form of unfurnished filmmaking that the director has seemingly perfect. Shoplifters doesn’t always draw attention to its themes, rather allowing the audience to make their own inferences based on implication, always leaving enough of the story up to the viewer. The story at the core of the film is one that benefits from such a fundamentally modest execution, as it allows the story to flourish on its own, with Kore-eda’s penchant for gorgeous visual detail and meaningful narrative touches crafting one of the most enchanting films of its kind. Moreover, the cast is equally as wonderful, with an ensemble of performers across three different generations being tasked with bringing these characters to life. Each actor is invaluable, and contributes massively to the film and its myriad ideas – whether its in the poignant wisdom of Kirin Kiki (in her last major film role), the uncertain despair of Sakura Ando and Lily Franky as navigate a world that they are starting to realize is not made for people in their position, or the layered innocence of Kairi Jō and Miyu Sasaki, who demonstrate a maturity far beyond their very young years, the cast is comprised of truly remarkable performers who explicitly understand the nuance needed in these characters, and bring a certain vivacity to the roles without ever losing sight of the gravitas that makes them so deeply compelling and thoroughly authentic.

Yet, when we reduce this towering masterpiece to just a few core ideas, it becomes clear how this film was informed so heavily by the unquestionable warm and humanity of its director, who manages to represent humanity in such incomparable beauty. There’s something about Kore-eda that makes him such a wonderful architect of the human condition, as evident in his perpetual decision to keep his films at the profoundly genuine level, never allowing them to drift into the realm of excess. They’re all potent social statements that always have something to say about life, even if it isn’t very clear from the story, which often takes the form of a series of moments that converge into a tapestry of modern existence.  Kore-eda’s films always speak for themselves, and he has proven himself to be the most generous of filmmakers, as his work is always explicitly focused on the characters, rather than the concepts they represent. Kore-eda often steps away from the film enough to have it seen as less of a directorial achievement, and more of the work of a dedicated group of creative spirits, all working in tandem to bring this story to life. Collaboration has always been key to Kore-eda’s films, with the vivacity of the story being the result the meticulous bond formed between Kore-eda’s vision and the individuals he selected to interpret it. Everyone from the director of photography, to the composer of the gorgeous score, to the astounding actors, are complicit in the radical successes of the film.

Shoplifters is a film about chosen families – and this seems to extend beyond the story, and also into the creation of the film, with the beautifully empathetic core of this film being the result of a production that, much like the protagonists in this film, was composed of a ragtag group of unique individuals, all using their skills to create one of the most ambitious films of its kind. This is a truly devastating film, one that is quite clear in how emotionally-striking it is, as its relentless in how profoundly moving it tends to be. It may be a film about some difficult subject matter, but Kore-eda is absolutely committed to bringing it to life in a way that isn’t miserable, but rather optimistic and hopeful. His stories tend to have a lot of resonance, not only because they represent life as it is, but also because they show that there’s always some silver lining on the horizon. A singularly breathtaking work that never becomes saccharine, but rather portrays the challenges of the human condition with such buoyancy and elegance, it becomes truly astonishing. Kore-eda continues to push the boundaries of social realism, demonstrating that even the most simple of films can be delightful, heartwarming and meaningful forays into the limitless extent of the human spirit, and a potent reminder that we are not only defined by ourselves but by those who help us along the way on our own individuals journeys – sometimes, the people who accompany us are the ones that help define us. The film never quite gives a definitive answer to the question of “what makes a family”, but leaves it up to us decide, implying that its less about the blood we’re born with, and more the bonds we form with others.