52-Hertz Whales

Japan produces hundreds of dramas each year, so it can be a little daunting to explore the genre not knowing what to look for. Izuru Narushima's 52-Hertz Whales [52 Hertz no Kujiratachi] is a book adaptation by a seasoned director and promotional material that promised a somewhat solemn experience. And the film delivers on its promises. It's a film that reminded me of turn-of-the-century dramas, refined and stylish, somewhat heavy-handed but never too sentimental. It's the kind of film that would've found international recognition back then.

So far Narushima's films never truly captured my attention. Not that he's made bad movies, they just lacked something to set them apart. Maybe the material here is a bit more suited to his style, or he found a crew that was able to elevate the film on their own accord, but there's a stronger stylistic signature present that helps to ground the drama. It'll no doubt appeal to people like me, who fell in love with the Japanese drama over two decades ago, I'm not sure how well it'll go over with others who are newer to the genre.

The story centers around a young woman who suffered a tough past, but there are quite a few detours sporting the people she meets along the way. It's not the most focused drama, thanks to elongated flashbacks and narrative jumps that dig into the lives of the secondary characters who cross her life. This does allow Narushima to work in different themes (e.g. trans rights) while not overloading the central character with an excess or trauma. It's a nice setup, that adds a bit to the overall runtime, but does so to broaden the scope of the drama.

Kinako moves into the home of her late grandmother. It's a place in a small town where people love to gossip, and it doesn't take long before the wildest stories do the rounds. One day, Kinako runs into a boy who looks to be neglected. She takes him home and decides to care for him. His mother has abandoned the kid and couldn't care less where he lives. Soon after, an old friend of Kinako comes to visit. This brings back old memories, but it also gives Kinako perspective on how to proceed with the boy. Together with her friend, they try to locate his relatives.

The cinematography is a clear highlight. It's nothing too overt or extreme, but it flows and matches with the varying moods of the characters flawlessly. Sometimes drifting and out of focus, sometimes gray and solemn, then more focused and melancholic. The camera work, the use of color and lighting, the gentle editing, everything chips in to create a thicker atmosphere. Daisuke Soma made excellent use of the techniques available to communicate emotions through just the visuals. It's the type of cinema I'm a sucker for.

It's not just the visuals though, the soundtrack too demands its time in the spotlight. It's not that, genre-wise, the music is a great departure from other Japanese dramas. It's a bit more reliant on ambient moods maybe, but it's still mostly pianos and strings. It's just that the music gets to place its foot next to the cinematography whenever there's an important dramatic highlight. It's a lovey pairing that strengthens these moments and gives them more impact, without ever making things too cheesy or oppressive. A job well done.

And the performances too deserve their share of the praise. Hana Sugisaki is captivating, sporting a strong and lively camera presence that doesn't detract from the more dramatic highlights in the story. The supporting roles are also very strong (Jun Shison deserves a special shout-out), which is important considering they're not just idle bystanders in Kinako's story. There are some mildly sketchier choices for the smaller roles (like Hio Miyazawa's villainous part) but they don't really take away much from the overall quality, so all good on the casting front.

The story of the 52 Hertz whale is a tragic one, a creature that calls out at a frequency not heard by any of its species. As a result, it's drifting through the ocean all by itself, hoping to bump into a soul mate by chance. That's the common thread that connects the various characters in this film, as they struggle to find and maintain these rare yet essential connections. If you latch onto the characters the film might feel a little disjointed and fragmented, but keep this overlapping theme in mind and the flow of the story starts to feel a lot more natural.

52-Hertz Whales doesn't represent the future of Japanese drama, for that it harkens back too often to genre defaults established a good quarter century ago. What the film lacks in innovation, Narushima makes up for with quality of execution, making certain everything is as polished and well-integrated as can be. The result is a warm and comfortable but often painful drama that deals with some tougher subjects, though doing so without crossing over into cheap sentimentality. As always, availability is the biggest hurdle, so keep your eyes open if you love this type of cinema.