“Shoplifters”, the feature film by the Japanese Hirokazu Kore-eda, is – yeah, what actually? Of coldness and rumbling stomachs. Of heat and noodle soup. Of barely buried fault. Of the love and the Hunger for it, and the question of whether love is even if it costs something.
The person in this supercooled, expensive world would like to have it hot, and he needs to dress and eat and wash, in Japan, would like to and he needs it just as much as elsewhere. Here is how the inner “feeling glows for some heater”, and it’s enough to warm to each other. Otherwise, and this happens quite often, and applies cold to cold. A Frost-made Sausage of the other. Or, at best, a Simulation of human heat on the other.
Talented shoplifters
Since this family is now (let’s call them so, because, according to the family it looks): grandmother, father, mother, a son, it seems, and an aunt. To feed take care of the mouth robbery and peculiar role to play. But the stable heat is pleasant, and the hunger cloth, gnawing, saturates sufficiently.
in Particular, the father and the son are – if they are, as strange evidence of strangeness irritate – very talented shoplifters, who make up the stolen Shampoo on the correct brand. And so one lives there, more than in petty criminal Civilised. And inside is the cardiac temperature is not yet so, that the two thieves look the other way, as you stumble in the night cold on a miserably before freezing little girl who locked his parents, it seems.
you don’t see the way, you do not take it in the warmth of their Scarcity, the child wants to get away, and in the following months, creates something that looks like gentle, family life harmony.
However, What looks like solid melodrama is a Drama of fragile existences. Always “works” it “as” in this narrative, it seems, it looks like something is – before it is then completely different.
Fuel the feelings
but This makes the magic and the mystery of Hirokazus Film. The voltage of a crime if, rotting in the dramatic background. And, so to speak: a finely woven realistic poetry, which considers whether there is a right life in the wrong. Whether it would be, if the soul abfriert to the prose of reality, not better, you should hold on to the illusions. Approximately to those of the origin of love from the spirit of self-interest.
The Illusion, which looks maybe just like a reality, would then be the Fuel of feelings. If you burn it, it would still be cold, probably, but you forget perhaps for a time Freeze.
In Zurich in the cinema Arthouse Alba and Riffraff.
(editing Tamedia)
Created: 12.12.2018, 18:04 PM
