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Content warning: This article references child abuse. Please refer to the end of the article for on- and off-campus resources.
“Shoplifters,” directed by Hirokazu Kore-eda, showcases a multigenerational family that relies on theft to support their livelihood while living on the outskirts of Tokyo, Japan. The film tackles themes of filial piety, death and the monetary constraints that define our lives under a capitalist system, all through the shifting perspectives of the family members.
The film opens with Osamu (Lily Franky) and Shota (Jo Kairi), an adopted father and son duo, shoplifting from a grocery store; the audience watches as Osamu distracts the workers while Shota swipes various foodstuffs into his backpack. On the way home, Osamu finds a 4-year-old girl named Yuri (Miyu Sasaki) sitting outside in the cold and decides to bring her home for a meal. As the film progresses, we see the family open up further, with Nobuyo (Sakura Ando), Shota’s adopted mother, and her grandmother, Hatsue (Kirin Kiki), taking on the roles of dueling matriarchs, specifically when it comes to Yuri’s future with the family as they realized the extent of the abuse she suffers from her real family. As the film continues, we see these dynamics shift as Osamu and Nobuyo adapt to adding another member to their family alongside themes of divided loyalties, seduction, deception and death.
Like Kore-eda’s previous works, “Shoplifters” stands out for its deeply enthralling plotlines and cinematography. Scenes of wintry desolation are spliced in with the warmth and intimacy of a family sharing meals; audiences watch as the seasons cycle in tandem with the closeness of Yuri and her newfound home.
The happiest scene of the film shines as the family takes a beach trip for the day, and Nobuyo and Hatsue look on as Osamu and Aki play with the children. This moment’s framing is truly a masterpiece. It feels as if the audience is watching a memory from an outside perspective, peeking into a moment lost in time. This is a constant pattern throughout the film, as the simple portrayal of joy exudes an almost painful feeling of nostalgia. Kore-eda’s trademark observational style through wide angles allows the audience to view these moments in their natural habitat, so to speak, and it feels as though the camera isn’t even there most of the time.
The film’s cinematography directly correlates to the overarching development of each character’s plotline. Audiences watch as the perspective shifts constantly between characters, specifically between the adults and the children. For example, the lens moves from a traditional observational standpoint of an argument between Nobuyo and Osamu to the children in Shota’s makeshift room on the floor in their own world. Transitions like these give the story a unique depth as we see the subtle effects of extraneous circumstances on each character. Ultimately, these shifts support the audience’s investment in the perspective of every family member regardless of the dialogue at hand, because we see the development of their own personal narratives in every shot of the film. This creates an intimacy between the audience and the family itself; one feels as though they are just another person sitting at the dinner table instead of an observer.
In the vein of intimacy, the display of emotional and physical connections is extraordinary. We see the connection between Nobuyo and Osamu transcend the traditional schema of married couples and instead act more like a codependent friendship, two individuals once bonded by the physical but now reliant on the necessity of being a unit to support one another in the stressful moments of their lives. Osamu explicitly says, when explaining their relationship to Nobuyo’s sister, Aki (Mayu Matsuoka), that they are connected by the heart, not by the physical. Aki replies, half-jokingly, that they are connected by money first and foremost. In this simple conversation, it’s clear the movie transcends traditional representations of intimate relationships by contextualizing them within reality. There is an element of monetary reliance on each other — without being a dual-income household, they wouldn’t be able to survive. It forces audiences to reckon with somewhat uncomfortable truths regarding their lives, taking away the romantic lens of intimacy and seeing it for what it truly is: dependence.
Tackling deeper topics is something the film doesn’t shy away from at any point. Themes of abuse and neglect permeate the relationships, specifically with Yuri. “Shoplifters” divulges that Yuri has been the victim of her parents’ mistreatment, as one scene shows her comparing burn marks with Nobuyo, received under different contexts. Exploring childhood abuse is a risk, but the film does it in a way that remains respectful in its authenticity.
Overall, “Shoplifters” succeeds where other films falter: in its unique observational lens of human intimacy. We see family dynamics shift and change, subtle reactions that add to the overarching motif of every moment and darker themes intertwined with everyday moments.
Resources: On-campus resources include Health Education Services (202-687-8949) and Counseling and Psychiatric Services (202-687-6985); additional off-campus resources include the Crisis Text Line (text HOME to 741741).