Actor and theatre director Kafuku discovers a secret about his wife, and when he fails to confront her, regret eats away at his soul. Some time later, he is assigned a young woman driver on a project in Hiroshima, and her own tale of regret opens up a space for him to finally confront his feelings.
There is a lot to admire about Drive My Car, but the runtime is not one of them. The critics claiming the three hours flash by unnoticed are being disingenuous. The gentle pace of the film feels organic in the first half, as Hamaguchi allows motives and emotions to gradually reveal themselves. But the second half flags, reviving only in the final 20 minutes, and the story ultimately is one that could have been told in under 120 minutes. Going way beyond that is simply self-indulgence by the director.
It is a major flaw, but not a fatal one. The performances are outstanding, especially Toko Miura as Watari, the young woman assigned to drive Kafuku. She politely but steadfastly resists the attempts of the older, higher status Kafuku to power harass her out of her role. Kafuku, to his credit, is prescient enough to accept Misaki, then gradually warm to her. The carefully crafted structured absence of Kafuku's wife is felt in every scene, but it is the more subtly depicted structured absence of his daughter that proves telling in his opening up to Watari. Had his daughter lived, she and Watari would be the same age.
The film poses questions and avoids easy answers. When Kafuku casts his wife's lover in an unlikely role, is he simply out to torture the young man for revenge? Or does he have an elaborate plan to achieve closure? Can a multinational, multilingual cast really provide a cathartic rendering of 'Uncle Vanya'? Undercutting all this fine-tuned drama are scenes where characters reveal themselves in a rush of exposition. The film also indulges in sentimentality at times, such as Kafuku's visit to his Korean collaborator's home for dinner, where a secret is cloyingly revealed.
A Japanese film with prominent Korean, Taiwanese and other Asian characters is to be applauded. And the inclusion of a Korean mute actress (a mesmeric outing from Park Yoo-rim) who delivers her lines in sign language in especially intriguing. That casting choice proves vital in the cathartic final scenes. However, it is less iconoclastic than some critics claim, given that Iwai Shunji's 'Swallowtail Butterfly' pushed the boundaries of on-screen Japaneseness and linguistic mixing almost three decades ago.
The car, both visually and as a space for the characters to interact, is a casting masterstroke in its own right. The shot of the two main characters holding their cigarettes aloft has sent some critics into raptures, but it is hyperbolic. The constant dialogue with a cassette tape is, however, hypnotic.
Lots to admire then, but also too many detracting elements. A decent enough film, but by no means the masterpiece many claim it to be.
There is a lot to admire about Drive My Car, but the runtime is not one of them. The critics claiming the three hours flash by unnoticed are being disingenuous. The gentle pace of the film feels organic in the first half, as Hamaguchi allows motives and emotions to gradually reveal themselves. But the second half flags, reviving only in the final 20 minutes, and the story ultimately is one that could have been told in under 120 minutes. Going way beyond that is simply self-indulgence by the director.
It is a major flaw, but not a fatal one. The performances are outstanding, especially Toko Miura as Watari, the young woman assigned to drive Kafuku. She politely but steadfastly resists the attempts of the older, higher status Kafuku to power harass her out of her role. Kafuku, to his credit, is prescient enough to accept Misaki, then gradually warm to her. The carefully crafted structured absence of Kafuku's wife is felt in every scene, but it is the more subtly depicted structured absence of his daughter that proves telling in his opening up to Watari. Had his daughter lived, she and Watari would be the same age.
The film poses questions and avoids easy answers. When Kafuku casts his wife's lover in an unlikely role, is he simply out to torture the young man for revenge? Or does he have an elaborate plan to achieve closure? Can a multinational, multilingual cast really provide a cathartic rendering of 'Uncle Vanya'? Undercutting all this fine-tuned drama are scenes where characters reveal themselves in a rush of exposition. The film also indulges in sentimentality at times, such as Kafuku's visit to his Korean collaborator's home for dinner, where a secret is cloyingly revealed.
A Japanese film with prominent Korean, Taiwanese and other Asian characters is to be applauded. And the inclusion of a Korean mute actress (a mesmeric outing from Park Yoo-rim) who delivers her lines in sign language in especially intriguing. That casting choice proves vital in the cathartic final scenes. However, it is less iconoclastic than some critics claim, given that Iwai Shunji's 'Swallowtail Butterfly' pushed the boundaries of on-screen Japaneseness and linguistic mixing almost three decades ago.
The car, both visually and as a space for the characters to interact, is a casting masterstroke in its own right. The shot of the two main characters holding their cigarettes aloft has sent some critics into raptures, but it is hyperbolic. The constant dialogue with a cassette tape is, however, hypnotic.
Lots to admire then, but also too many detracting elements. A decent enough film, but by no means the masterpiece many claim it to be.