Melting Sounds

Sometimes, all you need is a title to predict a film might be right up your alley. Such was the case with Kahori Higashi's Melting Sounds [Hotobori Meruto Saunzu], a film with a title that promised (and delivered) a more sensory experience. Higashi is a relatively new name on the block, and with Melting Sounds, he made it clear he was eager to make a good first impression as a writer/director. This is one of those niche Japanese dramas that is going to be incredibly tricky to hunt down, but if you're a fan, it's absolutely worth the trouble.

Maybe it's a bit of a coincidence, but based on the films I've been watching lately, it feels like there's a new generation of Japanese directors awakening. One that is adamant to combine writing and directing credits. That's usually a sign that a film is going to have a stronger identity, or at the very least, a stronger point of view. Melting Sounds isn't a reinvention of the Japanese drama, the genre is probably too foundational to allow for big and/or sudden changes, but it's still different enough from the default to stand out. These iterative improvements are still essential to keep things relevant.

The themes of the film are rather straightforward. Melting Sounds is a love letter to mindfulness. A film that demands respect for tradition and communal values, and celebrates the simple things in life. These are threatened here by corporate greed and a general distrust in other people. The film does so in a positive and (mostly) constructive way, not by highlighting the things we lost, but by underlining the beauty of what we're discarding. And that is something I appreciate, even when I don't necessarily agree with the core ideals of this film.

After her grandmother passed away, Koto decides to visit the empty home she left behind. There she finds Take, a man who put up a small cardboard house in her garden. Take has been roaming the nearby village, recording ambient sounds he likes. An estate company is eyeing the place, hoping to acquire the land from the few remaining owners. The town is on the brink of disappearing, and Take wants to capture the sounds of the village and its people before it's too late. The company has sent two employees to convince the owners to sell, but they quickly become attached to the place.

The cinematography is stylish and refined, without demanding too much space or focus. I wouldn't have minded if there had been a bit more interaction between the visuals and the sound, but this isn't that kind of film. Melting Sounds is more about creating a soothing and meditative atmosphere, and it does so by slowing things down and muting the color palette. But the attention to detail and the execution are meticulous. The framing is impressive, the camera work is gentle, and the visuals look incredibly crisp and clean.

The score (and soundscapes) too fit these stylistic choices. Nothing too overt or in your face, instead, the soundscapes highlight the chatter and murmur of everyday life. It's still recommended to turn up the volume, to make sure you catch all the subtleties within the sounds, not so much to be blown away by them. In combination with the visuals it works exceptionally well, the presentation helped put me at ease and ponder/appreciate the themes of the film, which is what a good score is supposed to do. So kudos to Higashi to succeed where many in the minimalist spheres fail.

The performances are crucial for a film like this, and Melting Sounds doesn't disappoint. Xiangya's performance is sweet, without being overly naive. She's a new face, but it looks like she has the chops to make it big. Next to her, Suzuki Keiishi plays an agreeable but slightly weary recluse who drags the crew along. The two supporting roles are a tad lighter in tone. Not exactly comical, but they are less about introducing fully fledged characters than they are about making a statement. A good cast without any weak links, in other words.

Melting Sounds is a film that puts emphasis on mood and experiences, not so much on its slim narrative. There's an underlying plot that pushes things along, but it's hardly essential, and apart from bringing these characters together it doesn't have too much of a function. Instead, sit back, relax and enjoy the little moments between these people and their attempt to capture the essence of a town on the brink of disappearing. The film hits a precarious balance that is probably a bit light on narrative for more casual film fans, while a bit too frivolous for seasoned arthouse lovers, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.

You don't often get these light-hearted dramas with subtle arthouse/experimental influences nowadays, so it was a refreshing watch. Melting Sounds doesn't push its styling to the limits, but the audiovisual qualities do emphasize the core themes and help create a lovely vibe. Kahori Higashi does well here, and hopefully she'll be allowed to build up a more extensive oeuvre, Japan needs dramas like these that continue to gently push the boundaries of the genre. If you get an opportunity to watch this, and you like a subtle, soothing drama, don't miss out.