CHERRY BLOSSOMS HANAMI

(Germany - 2007 - German and Japanese with English subtitles and English - 122 mins.) 

Directed by Doris Dörrie

Review By Michael Ricciardi

Not as much about honoring the memory of a cherished loved one, as rediscovering who they were —and striving to deeply to reconnect with that person once gone. CHERRY BLOSSOMS HANAMI –making its North American premier at SIFF--unfolds as an aging wife of Japanese descent (Hannelore Elsner), learns of her German husband’s (Elmar Wepper) terminal illness but cannot bear to tell him. She decides that taking a long trip together (something he hates) is the thing to do. As their “vacation” progresses, we encounter the children of the family—all variously caught up in their own troubles, and a bit put out to host their parents for an undecided length of time. We sense deeply the love and sadness this woman—Trudi--has for her husband, as she gazes at him as though trying to remember every detail of his face. But Rudi—the work occupied husband--is oblivious it seems, to his wife’s inner anguish, and we suspect, though he truly loves her, he has been oblivious to her for some time. We sense she has put her dreams on hold for him, remaining always in his shadow, but we sense no resentment in this, as she attempts, on the first leg of their journey together, to instruct her husband in the art of Butoh dance.

The film jumps to Japan, where Rudi meets up with his youngest son, and for awhile stays at his apartment. Once again, his children are accommodating, but somewhat grudgingly so. The ex-pat son, like his siblings in Germany, has little idea as to his father’s purposes, nor how long he will stay. He is concerned though, as his father seems to be carrying his entire savings with him.

Inspired by the films of Yasujiro Ozu, Director/writer Doris Dörrie first overwhelms us with the noise and color of Tokyo, then utterly charms us with the revelation of its small-detailed, transcendent beauty. From a certain point forwards, we find ourselves at every step in deep resonance with Rudi, who proceeds on to Japan alone to discover the native land of his wife, and the mystery of her memory.

After a short series of confusing and emotionally painful explorations of the city’s exotic offerings, Rudi encounters a young, female Butoh dancer named Yu (Aya Irizuki) in a picaresque Tokyo park while performing her unique, silent “shadow dance”. Her performance is both graceful and grotesque--featuring a pink plastic telephone with its long, helical cord attached to a tree (or herself, it seems at times; the phone and dancer inseparable). Rudi is entranced by her and what she does. Over time, they develop a special friendship that will propel Rudi to make the inevitable trip to Mount Fuji.

It is difficult to say more about the story without revealing its surprises. It is a study in Zen mindfulness with random attention to small details that leisurely, naturally, take their proper place in the space-time stream of this film. The performances are loving, nuanced, and real. The writing is simple, thoughtful, and poetic and when we arrive at the place that Rudi’s quest has taken him, we know it is the only place to be, and our sadness is buoyed by the completeness and rightness of it all.

CHERRY BLOSSOMS HANAMI, like cherry blossoms in nature, takes its time to bloom into full flower, but as it does so, when it does so, we are captivated by its sheer beauty.