A couple of years ago, I attended a film festival in which one of my most anticipated titles was Ryuichi Sakamoto: Opus, which was the final concert by arguably the greatest pianist of the 20th century, an essential voice who we lost far too soon, but who managed to (in the final chapter of his life) perform one last concert, albeit alone in a studio, without the presence of an audience or any fellow musicians to accompany him in the creation of possibly his final masterpiece. One person who was present was his son, Neo Sora, who documented the concert, which ultimately became the footage used for the film. In addition to being enraptured by Sakamoto’s compositions, I was also blown away by the skill demonstrated by his son, who managed to take what was essentially just a two-hour concert and turn it into one of the most hauntingly beautiful pieces of cinema of the current decade. It seemed likely that he was destined for greatness, especially considering he seemed to be interested in narrative filmmaking as well. Now, Sora has finally taken that leap, in the form of Happyend, his narrative debut in which he tells the story of Yūta and Kō, two friends in the near-future, who are in the final days of high school. They are avoiding trying to think too heavily about their future, and instead focus on capturing every ounce of their youth. However, a poorly-timed prank by the mischievous duo has unintended consequences that lead to the installation of a security system in their school. Suddenly, the free-spirited students are spending the final stage of their high school career under constant surveillance, gradually realising the scope of the situation into which they’d found themselves, which is both frustrating and inescapable. At the surface, the director is making a complete pivot from a meditative documentary about music to a complex science fiction drama, but continuing to build his art around the idea of time and the responsibility of artists to preserve culture, even if it can be a daunting process. A peculiar curio of a film, but one that has some bold ideas embedded within, Happyend is quite an achievement in both concept and execution, immediately earning our attention, even at its most opaque.

Allegory is an important artistic device, but it is always vital to make sure that a director’s intentions are very clear when making use of it, especially when tackling slightly more challenging topics. In the case of Happyend, Sora builds the film around the concept of surveillance, which is a subject that should not only resonate with most of the audience, but frankly unsettle them too. We usually tend to view it through the lens of the maximalist Orwellian perspective, where we are constantly being watched by some mysterious entity that guides our every movement, even if we don’t realise it – and what makes this so unsettling is that it is true, even if we don’t realise it. It may not be in the way these works usually portray it, and the methods can often be starkly different, but the reality is that we are monitored far more closely than we realise, which is a concerning reality that very few of us are willing to admit. Sora is clearly fascinated by the subject, but rather than exploring it extensively and in a very literal way, he chooses what is essentially a blend of science fiction and a morality tale, using the story of two teenagers trying to navigate the final days of high school, but whose plans were immediately derailed after a poor decision leads not only them to pay the price of mischief, but their classmates and all future generations. A subject as simple as the installation of a surveillance system in a school seems relatively unassuming, until we start to see the impact that comes with real-time monitoring, particularly the establishment of a system where students are encouraged to go about their day as usual, but rather than living freely, they are constantly aware that they are being watched – the implementation of a system of demerits used to curb any questionable behaviour that would have otherwise gone unnoticed gradually erodes at the collective sanity of these students. The topic of surveillance stands in as a metaphor for the control likely being experienced by these people as they set out to navigate challenging situations, particularly in how they begin to change their behaviour as a result of suddenly being made interminably visible, constantly under evaluation and assessed based on the ideals of others. It’s a fascinating subject, and Sora explores it extensively, particularly in the examination of power and authority, and the role it plays in the lives of these young people.

However, rather than limiting the discussion on Happyend to its more intimidating themes, we also need to focus on the fact that this is a film about youth and the challenges of coming of age in a society that mandates what ideal behaviour resembles, and penalises those who refuse to adhere to these strict conventions. While it may not seem to be the case at a glance, it is clear that this is a film about youth, since it is focused on the examination of these young people as they move through life. It resists the familiar impulse to position the protagonists as merely inexperienced revolutionaries and is instead committed to presenting late adolescence as a period marked by uncertainty, where these people are engaged in the act of deliberate contradiction as they attempt to make sense of the world that surrounds them. They are acutely aware that they are living under a system that unfairly governs them, asserting unjust power, but also being entirely aware that they possess virtually no power to change the system. Their protest is quiet but resilient, and the unsettling nature of the film highlights this in great detail, showing the young protagonists and their peers openly questioning the impact of rebellion, going against power structures by challenging them in quiet but intriguing ways. Something as simple as a prank can be viewed as childish mischief at first, but adding some context gleaned from the film’s approach to the subject reveals it to be a subtle triumph against the system, a gesture of incredulity towards authority that feels far more compelling than a more traditional protest. Through all of this, Sora is mostly attempting to make a film about escape – the version of Tokyo he presents may be slightly futuristic, but is only vaguely offbeat, since everything is mostly quite recognisable, showing a reality that the next generation are likely to face, and depicting their efforts to retreat from these harsh measures that are seemingly becoming a byproduct of a renewed interest in strict control. For these teenagers, simply imagining a life filled with joy is enough to motivate them, allowing them to express themselves under oppressive conditions, which is the most powerful act of defiance itself. 

One of the benefits of a film like Happyend is that it establishes its core themes and specific structural approach early enough that the viewer can decide almost immediately whether or not this is going to be a film that will appeal to them. Based on the first handful of scenes, if you can leap onto its wavelength, then you will have a good time, and if you find it to be too prosaic or scattered in how it presents its key themes during those introductory moments, then the rest of it may not be worth the time. It’s an exceptionally slow film, and one in which nothing much is said, which is an intentional choice on the part of Sora, who intentionally wants to keep the viewer at arm’s length throughout the film. It’s a starkly minimalistic work, defined by Sora’s appreciation for restraint as a form of artistic expression, and his willingness to allow unease to accumulate in gentle and gradual strokes, rather than being overwhelming from the start. As a science fiction film, it’s fascinating – his version of Tokyo is not some highly-advanced metropolis transformed by technology, but rather subtle expansions of systems that already exist, only becoming more present in the lives of these people. It’s not a film driven by novelty, which affords the film not only a sense of plausibility but also allows its core themes to resonate far deeper, despite its speculative nature. We recognise the world onscreen as the likely progression of our era, rather than some distant dystopia, the eerie urban landscapes being unsettling but unquestionably familiar.  He intended to create a sparse vision of a future, one that is hanging in suspension, patiently waiting for the next development to move it further towards some kind of malicious utopia. It’s a very subtle film, driven by minimalistic means – the cinematography is stark but quiet, the director’s camera being used to observe more than define the story, each composition beautiful but intentionally aloof. It all amounts to a film that is about stillness more than anything else, the visual minimalism reflecting not only the feeling of being watched, but also the quiet tensions lingering beneath the surface, which even the audience can feel throughout the film.

Happyend may not be as innovative and daring as we may hope based on a cursory glance, but it’s certainly solid enough to appeal to those with a penchant for slightly more challenging works, especially those built around the act of questioning the status quo. This is a coming-of-age story rooted in an intensely political atmosphere, and while Sora is using his knowledge of Japanese culture to guide the narrative, we can all recognise the core themes and what they ultimately represent. Youth is not romanticised or viewed as the act of pure rebellion, but rather presented as a period of heightened sensitivity to the injustices that define society, and the urge to remedy them as far as possible. This is reflected in the irony of the title – the characters are promised a better future, one that uses security and order as a means to provide joy, while constricting society to the point where happiness is entirely manufactured. Through this, Sora can comment on surveillance as a means of control – perhaps the most egregious example of the misuse of power imaginable – and how visibility does not necessarily curb bad behaviour, but rather breeds innovation. This is a story of young people rebelling against the system, going against authority and doing what they can to define their own future. It’s a brilliantly daring work, a film built on the rhetorical exposing of the deep mistrust felt by the youth, as they realise that safety is not achieved through draconian measures, but rather where each person follows their own path, defying authority wherever reasonable. Listening carefully to its young protagonists, Happyend is a speculative film about the refusal of adolescents to become mouthpieces for ideologies, and instead allowing them to grow into textured individuals as they navigate a challenging world. Sora positions himself as a filmmaker attentive to the present through speculating on the future, urging viewers to notice the lingering warnings present in this film, and hopefully motivating younger audiences to embrace the youthful frustration and desire to rebel before it calcifies into complete resignation and ultimately becomes nothing but apathy to the cruelty of the system.