Reżyseria:
Hirokazu Kore'edaScenariusz:
Hirokazu Kore'edaZdjęcia:
Ryûto KondôMuzyka:
Haruomi HosonoObsada:
Lily Franky, Kirin Kiki, Jyo Kairi, Miyu Sasaki, Sosuke Ikematsu, Moemi Katayama, Sakura Andō, Mayu Matsuoka, Kengo Kōra, Akira Emoto, Chizuru Ikewaki, 森口瑤子 (więcej)VOD (1)
Opisy(1)
Złodziejaszki to historia trzypokoleniowej ubogiej rodziny, żyjącej na przedmieściach Tokio. Utrzymują się z najróżniejszych dorywczych zajęć oraz drobnych kradzieży. I choć ledwo wiążą koniec z końcem, gdy pewnego dnia w ich życiu pojawia się bezdomna dziewczynka, bez wahania decydują się zapewnić jej dach nad głową. To początek wydarzeń, które odsłonią skrywane tajemnice z przeszłości rodziny. (Polskie Media)
(więcej)Materiały wideo (3)
Recenzje (5)
Not admitted free sequel Like father, like son. And no matter how much Koreeda deals with the same topic, it is viewed from a completely different, no less interesting and unusual, perspective. As we frequently see in his movies, despite the theme that clearly encourages it, it is simply without any pathos or emotional blackmail. But not the emotional impact. In contemporary world movie industry, it is difficult to find “more humanitarian" films than what Koreeda shoots on regular basis; all his characters are in their imperfection perfect and alive like few others. He loves them all, he does not condemn any of them. And the viewer does the same.
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A beautiful and actually very touching film, but somehow in a completely different way than is usual in the Czech Republic. A sincerely and without unnecessary pathos told story of a group of people living on the fringe of society, who, although not related by blood, form a family in a much better sense than many blood relatives. The civilian and completely natural performances of the actors wonderfully add to the realness and power of this film. (85%)
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We perceive Japan as a wealthy economy that is an unpleasant competitor for Western companies. However, every country, even the richest one, produces unsuccessful outsiders who move in the shadow of carefully built elegant façades. Social dramas, such as Kore-eda's film, come to us from Japan like saffron, so just to explain: a thief has a different meaning and position in Japanese society than it does in ours. Thieves are the most despised type of people who are at the lowest level of the social hierarchy. A couple of years ago, there was a report from Japan about two old members of the Yakuza who were caught stealing in a store. It was presented as a sign of the incredible decline of this branch of organized crime. The Yakuza is involved in traditional virtuous forms of criminality such as extortion, prostitution, corruption, and gambling. The director approaches his antiheroes impartially, sensitively mapping their motivations and relationships. Shoplifters represents a rare case of a well-made film that brings an original approach and perspective to a social phenomenon and segment of society. In terms of form, there is nothing essential to criticize about this film. It is a festival film, as it should be, or as I imagine it. Overall impression: 85%.
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In some ways, Koreeda returns to the darker, socially realistic note of his older films, but masterfully mixes it with the warm melancholy of Our Little Sister and After the Storm. Shoplifters is a brilliant blend of Like Father Like Son, and Nobody Knows. A film about the fact that love between a parent and a child is not predestined, and that the family, like almost every social unit, is a matter of social agreement (or the radical violation thereof). Precisely constructed, emotionally measured, layered, and in some ways terribly depressing, or full of hope. Koreeda shows that the disintegration of traditional family models does not have to mean the end. In a world inclined to completely different values, the relationship between adults and children can be reborn into something quite different. More than anything else, Shoplifters is a celebration of empathy and unconditional love independent of genetic ties. A master at the top of his game.
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Koreeda further develops the theme of alternative family models that do not depend on blood relations, but rather on what is shared by those involved (he again works a lot with taste memory here) and whether they feel comfortable and safe together. At the same time, the film shows, but by no means excuses, the dubious foundations of some interpersonal ties. The members of the “family” are united not only by love, but also by financial dependency or a dark secret that is gradually revealed through well-thought-out dosing of information (there is thus a pseudo-detective storyline that keeps us in suspense until the end). Because the head says something different than the heart, there is no simple answer to the question of who should ideally stay with whom at the end of the film. Replacing exposition with the gradual revealing of the protagonists’ past and strengthening of the ties that unite them contributes to the variability of the relationships and forces us to constantly reassess our opinions of the individual characters, among whom Koreeda “democratically” divides attention. At the same time, we get an uncompromising cross-sectional sociological view of modern Japanese society, from teenagers who either prefer to go abroad or to receive money for “swinging their breasts” (and offering company to emotionally deprived young men), through the working class that has a form of certainty, to seniors killing time with gambling machines. At its core, Shoplifters is a rather simple drama that is dark but not completely hopeless, while also being complex in many respects. Like all of Koreeda's films, it is characterised by a slowly paced narrative (divided into several blocks divided by fade-outs), a jagged mise-en-scène and economical yet precise camerawork that involves no unnecessary movements and adapts its point of view to the individual characters according to the needs of the narrative. Though Shoplifters does not in any way manipulate you emotionally, it can, without applying any pressure, bring you to a point where all it takes is for one character to utter a single word and you will find yourself in tears. This is further proof of Koreeda’s unpretentious mastery of his craft. Though it is perhaps formally less inspiring than The Third Murder, more accessible to viewers than Nobody Knows and not as fragile as Still Walking, it is still one of the best-directed films I’ve seen this year. Twice so far, but I will definitely come back to it. 90%
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