Still the Water – review

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Naomi Kawase presents us with a coming-of-age tale in which nature looms large; there are no dark bedrooms for these teenagers to hide in as they navigate sex, death and romance on a rugged Japanese island. The sea crashes ferociously against the shore and a typhoon rages, physical manifestations of the terror felt by 16 year olds Kaito and Kyoko as they stand on the brink of adulthood.

The film begins with the discovery of a drowned man on the beach, an event which seems set to kick off a murder-mystery before the meandering tedium of the first half swallows that plot whole. Instead the event serves as a catalyst for Kaito and Kyoko’s fledgling relationship. It is the kind of awkward teen romance that isn’t particularly quirky, funny, or cute. The way the camera lingers on their sullen faces after they’ve had yet another mumbled conversation kills any sense of charm, making it difficult to muster interest in their shared fate.

Luckily their individual stories are much more interesting, and form the backbone of the film. At the centre of the drama is the death of Kyoko’s mother, a tale so beautifully told that it just might deserve Kawase’s own label of ‘masterpiece’. It feels like the energy that went into the writing and directing of the film, which is often sprawling, was concentrated in these scenes. The effect is remarkable, and one feels truly grateful to be watching such an unsentimental, tender and confident portrayal of one of society’s taboos.

Witnessing Kaito’s development is less rewarding, but the delightful Kyoko provides relief from his scowls and lip-trembles. An interesting foil to Kaito’s reservation, she makes youthful frivolity look like the mature response to life’s trials. ‘Coming of age’ in this story means managing to break through fear into humility, a refreshing turn-around of the narrative which so often envisions the process as a farewell to childhood freedoms. Being open to the world is not indicative of innocence, but of a learned understanding of one’s human limits. Kawase constantly reminds us of our position with the abrasive sounds of crashing waves and howling winds. Unfortunately the dreamy piano soundtrack provides a poor accompaniment.

Despite dodgy pacing and the occasional piece of excruciating dialogue, Still the Water contains sublime moments which make the 120 minutes worth it.

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