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Film Analysis: A Balance (2020) by Yujiro Harumoto

A film that works on a number of levels, all of which are analyzed thoroughly and artfully, and eventually interconnect in the most impressive way, through a truly shocking story

Although had already sent a warning with his excellent feature debut “” (awarded in Tokyo International Film Festival and Vesoul International Film Festival of Asian Cinemas) nothing could have prepared us for his second work, a truly ground-breaking movie that (finally) seems to do something completely different with the Japanese family drama. “”, where, again, he serves as producer, screenwriter, director and editor has already won awards in Busan, Pingyao and Singapore, and is now screening at 2021 Berlinale.

“A Balance” is screening at Five Flavours Asian Film Festival

Yuko is a documentary director who is preparing a TV documentary with a small crew comprising of her producer and liaison with the TV channel, Tomiyama and cameraman Ikeda. Her topic is quite harsh, since it involves a case of a relationship between a school student and a teacher that ended in a double suicide and a social outcry that completely ruined the lives of both families. Yuko's focus is in presenting the truth in the most genuine way possible, but the channel producers prefer to have a tamer program, which will present the whole case as a student-versus-faculty deal. Despite the unspoken threat of no air-time at all, Yuko is set to present the whole truth, which involves interviewing the families of both deceased's, which are initially reluctant, though, to speak in front of the camera.

Apart from a director, Yuko also teaches in her father's, Tetsuya, cram school (in a comment highlighting that one cannot live just on shooting documentaries). One of the students there, Mei, seems to have a health issue, and Yuko soon finds herself helping the girl in all aspects, as she reminds her much of herself, particularly since they both grew up without a mother. The two of them come quite close, but soon Yuko finds herself face to face with a scandal that is about to break much closer home, threatening both her life and her career. As the twists about what is actually happening come crashing, Yuko has to face a number of dilemmas revolving her various capacities, and her issue of simply caring too much.

Yujiro Harumoto directs a film that works on a number of levels, all of which are analyzed thoroughly and artfully, and eventually interconnect in the most impressive way, through a truly shocking story that manages to retain interest for the whole of the 153 minutes of the story.

In that fashion, the movie begins with a focus on filmmaking in Japan, and particularly the issues directors have to face with the infamous production committees, whose only purpose is to avoid offending anybody and to make money. The scene with the first meeting highlights the balance this concept retains, but also the role of the producer, who has to liaise between the committee and the artist-filmmaker, whose opinions occasionally are miles afar.

As the story progresses, and more aspects of the story Yuko is shooting are revealed, the comments turn towards the over-conservative, eager-to-judge Japanese society, with the consequences being presented by both the double suicide, but also the impact the events have on the ones left behind, the families of the people involved. This approach takes the concept of bullying even furthest than the “bullying the bully”, as in this case, Harumoto examines the implications of “bullying the indirect victim”. As the role of the press is also criticized (the teacher's mother states how just a single news story destroyed her whole life), the families emerge as the true victims, and society (and media) as the true perpetrator. Yuko, who at one point states, “That's just the law. Society is not so forgiving” highlights these comments in the most eloquent way.

As Yuko finds herself having to face a similar situation, even more so since her mother instincts seem to kick-in the more she gets involves with Mai, she also has to challenge her own self as a daughter, a documentarian and a human being. Through this aspect, Harumoto poses another question, regarding the function of the camera as a concept, examining the two hypostases of Yuko, the one behind (as a director) and the one in front (as a person) and the whether she can stay true to her values in both capacities. Furthermore, that a person who accused her producer and the TV channel's production committee for hypocrisy and one who really pushed the “subjects” of her documentary to tell the truth in front of the camera despite the potential consequences, finds herself having to face these exact two situations, adds another set of levels to her dilemmas.

Furthermore, the film also presents a harsh critique towards the whole concept of parenthood (fatherhood if you prefer, since the Yuko-Mai axis is completely void of mothers) and more specifically the lack of it, since the parents in the film are either absent or creating problems for their children, who have to both suffer from and to try to solve them. At the same time, Harumoto also shows that the actions of the parents have consequences on their children despite the age of both, and the that the role of the parent never actually ceases, even if occasionally the children are the ones who have to do the parenting.

Lastly, and through the whole narrative, Harumoto makes a rather harsh remark about humanity and the world we inhabit, as the characters in the film seem to constantly lie, being violent in different ways, hypocritical to both themselves and others, and as much perpetrators as victims. The shuttering twists that appear in the last part of the movie highlight this concept with a truly shocking realism, with Harumoto presenting the world as a truly hopeless place. Somewhere here, however, is where the sole flaw of the narrative lies, since I felt that the movie would have been much more impactful if it ended a few moments before the actual finale, which seems like some kind of compromise towards the audience, the sole moment Harumoto chooses to do that in the whole movie.

The production values of the movie are also on a very high level. Kenji Noguchi's occasionally shaky camera gives a documentary-like essence to a number of occasions in the movie, creating a parallel with Yuko's profession that also works on a contextual level. His framing is also excellent, as exhibited in a number of scenes where the placement of the camera presents the (im)balance among the protagonists, with the scene where the crew is waiting for the TV producers to decide highlighting this aspect beautifully. Furthermore, Noguchi seems to use long shots, close ups and mid-shots with the same artfulness, essentially deeming the cinematography one of the protagonists of the films. Harumoto's editing induces the film with a pace a bit faster than the one usually implemented in the Japanese family dramas, while the fact that there is enough story here to carry the movie for almost the whole of its duration definitely benefits this aspect. Few scenes could have been omitted or being somewhat briefer, but in general, the movie emerges as largely economical despite its duration, particularly when one considers the depth of the story.


Yuko No Tenbin | A Balance by Yujiro Harumoto JPN 2020, Panorama
© Eigakobo Harugumi

The decision to not use music at all also emerges as an ideal one, since both the images and the context here are powerful enough by themselves, without any kind of need of the additional evocation of feelings music usually offers.

as Yuko gives an impervious performance, highlighting all the different aspects of a rather multileveled character with a laconic artistry that benefits the most by her body stance, facial expression, and a kind of crooked smile that speaks volumes on occasion. as her producer is also quite convincing, as a man struggling between his effort to provide for himself and his family and not to betray his director, with the fact that Yuko always “wins” in their disagreements being a testament to his character. Masahiro Umeda as Tetsuya, Mai's father, manages to emit a sense of danger even in the moments he acts in calm and polite fashion, with the consequences being particularly evident in the behaviour of as Masashi, during their interactions, with the latter giving another fitting performance. The confrontation scene with Yuko is one of the most shocking in the film, particularly due to the lack of intense reaction, and a testament to the chemistry of the two. as Mei presents her character's problematic status accurately, with the way she warms up to Yuko being the highlight of her performance.

“A Balance” is a tremendous film, one that truly reinvigorates the largely preterit family drama genre, and one that touches the borders of the masterpiece, which it would have surpassed if the ending was a bit different.

About the author

Panos Kotzathanasis

My name is Panos Kotzathanasis and I am Greek. Being a fan of Asian cinema and especially of Chinese kung fu and Japanese samurai movies since I was a little kid, I cultivated that love during my adolescence, to extend to the whole of SE Asia.

Starting from my own blog in Greek, I then moved on to write for some of the major publications in Greece, and in a number of websites dealing with (Asian) cinema, such as Taste of Cinema, Hancinema, EasternKicks, Chinese Policy Institute, and of course, Asian Movie Pulse. in which I still continue to contribute.

In the beginning of 2017, I launched my own website, Asian Film Vault, which I merged in 2018 with Asian Movie Pulse, creating the most complete website about the Asian movie industry, as it deals with almost every country from East and South Asia, and definitely all genres.

You can follow me on Facebook and Twitter.

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