A fatal car accident leaves a businessman dead, just before he and his wife, Yumiko (Yôko Tsukasa) were set to emigrate to the United States as a result of a recent promotion. The driver of the car, Shiro Mishima (Yûzô Kayama) works for an entertainment company and may have something of an alcohol problem, which is initially considered the reason for the accident. Overcome with guilt, Shiro approaches Yumiko to try and make amends, which he does through offering monthly payments to help support her in lieu of her husband’s presence. Yumiko, overwhelmed with grief, constantly avoids the man who took her husband’s life, despite acknowledging that it was an accident, and she doesn’t harbour any hatred towards him. However, Shiro persists, and when Yumiko discovers her husband’s family has taken her off the family register, thus rendering her without any support, she finds herself gravitating towards the offer made by the relative stranger who is tenacious in his belief that he wants to atone for his actions. He himself is burdened by reminders of the accident, being constantly derided by those who don’t believe the court-mediated conclusion that it was a mechanical error, and demoted to a rural office, where he is out of sight due to the reputation he’s amassed. Constantly finding themselves crossing paths, Yumiko and Shiro surrender to the fact that they are a part of each other’s lives, and while both are working through the tragedy that changed both their existences, they find their interests intertwining, and slowly begin to realize that they are falling madly in love with each other, as a result of their separate metaphysical journeys towards overcoming the obstacles they’ve been presented with.

Mikio Naruse was always second to someone else when it came to the films he made – always spoken in the same breath as some of the other Japanese masters that were making films around the same time as him, he often struggled to stand out on his own merits for the general populace, who always focused their attention on the more traditionally-resonant works of the likes of Ozu and Kurosawa. Naruse, however, is deservedly the subject of a great deal of retrospective praise, with many of his films ascending to the status of true masterpieces in the decades following his passing. His final film, Scattered Clouds (Japanese: 乱れ雲) may just be his undersung masterpiece, another tender human drama made by a filmmaker whose keen understanding of the human condition made him one of the most profoundly resonant cinematic storytellers of his generation, and where his seamless blend of stark realism and buoyant optimism resulted in many masterful forays into the very fabric of existence, as evident in his poignant swan song. In Scattered Clouds, Naruse is going in search of answers to some of life’s more challenging questions through presenting us with a simple but poetic story that navigates the boundary between harrowing tragedy and heartfelt romance, drawing from many different aspects of the world around him to deliver a steadfast ode to the nuances of life, where the complex idiosyncrasies are demonstrated with an incredibly authentic and sensitive attention to detail and profound sincerity.

In understanding Scattered Clouds as more than just a simple human drama, you need to look beneath the surface, where the very clear message of the film is made quite evident, namely in how Naruse is endeavouring to look at trauma as the central (but not sole) theme of the story. Essentially, the film begins with a traumatic incident, and the rest of the story follows the aftermath, and how various individuals that are associated with the event coming to terms with this harrowing change in their lives. Trauma theory proposed found two fundamental forms of grieving, both of which can be found in Scattered Clouds – acting out and working through, with the two central characters exhibiting traits of both throughout the duration of the story. They both inadvertently finding themselves acting in erratic ways, whether it be in anger or outright despair, blaming a myriad of external factors, before eventually finding a way to work through the trauma and come out the other side of it in a way where the event isn’t forgotten, nor is the person that was lost, but rather the protagonists find it within themselves to move forward in a way that allows them to not be burdened by the indelible nature of memory. Naruse does exceptionally well in evoking the oscillating anguish and acceptance that the characters frequently find themselves experiencing, demonstrating how grief is not necessarily a linear process and has many different qualities that are experienced differently by individuals. It is an earnest representation of the mourning process, one that is executed with a tenderness that often goes amiss in other works, where overwrought sentimentality is favoured over the primordially human.

Scattered Clouds is a film that approaches its subject in a way that feels fundamentally authentic, and thus doesn’t only focus on the more downbeat aspects of the story. The impetus for the film may have been to explore trauma, but what truly sets this film apart is how it goes much deeper than that, without ever needing to be overly complex. Naruse crafts a film that is ultimately focused around an impossible love story, and the shifting relationship between two people who were brought together by a tragic event, and where their only solace could ultimately be found in each other. The concept of the “present-absent” is imperative in looking at Scattered Clouds, particularly in how the spectre of memory, both of the event and the individual who was lost in it, lingers and informs the characters and their actions, as well as defining their lives in ways that they simply did not expect. The film is about the volatility of life, and while it may be gauche for this film to dovetail in a tale of romance, it ultimately serves the story well, as it shows the different methods of working through trauma, and how it is a unique process for everyone. Naruse never proposes a definitive statement on how to overcome these challenges in any way – instead, he uses Scattered Clouds to remark on the importance of finding comfort in loss, even if it means realizing that life, as difficult as it may be in the aftermath of a catastrophic event, must carry on. The film grapples the narrow boundary between indicating the importance of holding onto memories, and the perils of allowing yourself to grow stagnant. For the two individuals at the centre of this film, the only way forward was to seek the understanding companionship of someone who has felt a similar loss. The romance isn’t even particularly important, but rather the message of interdependency in times of need, and how it is always easier to face these inevitable obstacles with someone sympathetic by your side.

Like many of his films, Naruse is interested in exploring the gender roles, which often manifests in the remarkably complex performances he derives from his actors. Scattered Clouds is a film that focuses on two individuals trying to make their way through the world after experiencing two sides of the same tragedy. The theme that the film is intent on investigating here is how these two people find themselves coming together as a result of the event, which is inextricably linked in some way to the intertwining of masculinity and feminity, and how society views their roles. Yûzô Kayama plays a man who has found himself finally having to atone for years of defying standards, represented in his clear dependency on alcohol, whether as a way to pass the time or numb the pain. No longer the idealistic portrayal of masculinity, he’s forced into a position of subservience, made to feel the hopeless disgrace of being considered a secondary citizen. Contrast this with Yôko Tsukasa, who is magnificent in playing a woman who was just finding her place in a male-driven world, when her husband is unexpectedly killed and has to grapple with the rejection from the social stratum she was so comfortable in – removed entirely from the family, in both name and benefit, she now has to venture out into a world she no longer recognizes. The two leads are exceptional, conveying the heartbreak and despair their characters face, giving truly compelling performances that are as complex as they are achingly beautiful. Tsukasa in particular stands out as a woman fighting for her right to exist as something more than a concept or object of desire, and her journey to realizing her own worth in the aftermath of a tragic event, only proves that Naruse was able to bring out the most beautifully complex work in his performers.

Scattered Clouds does touch on the challenges these individuals have to face, many of which form part of the film’s heartbreaking commentary on the shift in social norms in the decades following the war, in which the country was still in the process of rebuilding. This film is truly fascinating and insightful, but without being too heavy-handed, choosing to rather allow the simplicity of the story, paired with the stark themes it explores, to carry the narrative. Ultimately, what sets this film apart from other thematically-similar works is that Naruse is operating from a position of optimism – Scattered Clouds is a heartbreaking film, but it never resorts to downbeat sensationalism in its portrayal of tragedy and is far more concerned with the more human side of the story. It is a very simple, moving film that takes seamlessly combines the sombre honesty of social realism and the soaring emotional pulchritude of cinema’s great melodramas, evoking a truly sensational experience. It seeks to give unfettered insights into the human condition, showing the tormenting nature of uncertainty, and the eventual consolation that comes with accepting change is inevitable. It is a remarkably restrained film, especially considering how it centres around a horrifying tragedy. It finds hope in the bleakest of situations and comments on the tangible importance of optimism. It is a resoundingly gorgeous film, where the themes are kept at the fundamentally human level, never deviating from the honesty underpinning this story, and showing the importance of accepting, but never surrendering to, life’s innumerable challenges.

Ultimately, Naruse doesn’t need to resort to hysterics or excess, choosing authenticity over constructed emotion. Scattered Clouds is an achingly beautiful journey into the human spirit, carefully-curated by filmmakers whose career was always defined by these poignant odes to life’s more difficult situations. Naruse doesn’t offer any definitive answers, even when we can consider this film to be one of the most profoundly genuine explorations of grief of its era, where both the inner turmoil and outward despair are explored with such elegance and enduring care. The film is a delicate social drama that never deviates in favour of anything broad, often defying expectations in a way that is almost revolutionary, which is not something we’d normally associate with such an intimate character study. Rather, the brilliance of Scattered Clouds comes in the fact that this story is almost on the verge of emotional eruption – Naruse executes the film with incredibly deft skill, where the heartfelt nature of the story is maintained, but never used in a way that could be considered disingenuous. Whether through the exceptional performances by the two leads, the intensely powerful portrayal of a tragic event, or the overall sincerity brought to the film by a director, who demonstrated a clear understanding of human behaviour, a quality that he never exploited but rather used in incredibly beautiful ways, Scattered Clouds is an astonishing work of art that not only functions as a gorgeous voyage into the most fascinating aspects of existence, ut also serves to be an incredibly poignant farewell to one of cinema’s most unheralded masters, who makes his exit with a film that leaves an indelible impression in all who were fortunate enough to take a glimpse into the world from the eyes of a true iconoclast.