User reviews

As a long-time Zhang Yimou fan, I was pleased to see his most recent work depart from the Hero/ House of Flying Daggers genre and return to what I see as "classic" Zhang Yimou-- deceivingly simple films about personal struggle and transformation which are marked by their tenacious sense of humanism, stunning cinematography, and subtle political and social undertones.

Qian Li Zhou Dan Qi is a story about a father's (Ken Takakura's) journey to mend his relationship with his estranged son (voiced by Kiichi Nakai). It is a journey that transpires on two levels: Takada's physical voyage from a minimalist Japanese fishing village to a vibrant region of Yunnan Province China spurs an emotional progression that thaws his benumbed emotions for his son. Kiichi Nakai's character is never seen on screen and remains an abstraction; the son-figure is instead incarnated by a young boy of a remote village, fathered illegitimately by the opera singer whom Takada seeks to film. By learning to embrace the young boy, his hidden paternal love is manifested, and Takada, ever the stoic Hemingway man, is vicariously able to come to terms with his relationship with his own son.

The most gripping part of this film is Ken Takakura's performance. The range and depth of the actor's emotions was just what Zhang Yimou endeavored to capture in this film, and indeed, Takakura's dignity and gravitas permeates every minute of it. The camera delineates his face with great diligence and grace in the style of Zhang Yimou's The Road Home (1999) and earlier Gong Li films. Paired with visual imagery of Japan's coast and Yunnan's mountains and terrain, the picture is, as usual, a credit to Zhang Yimou's distinctive talent as director and ex-cinematographer.

Much has been said about the politics of Zhang Yimou's films. Since Qian Li Zhou Dan Qi deals with the touchy issues of state censorship and the Chinese prison system and presents them in an ultimately favorable light, it may appear that this film serves as propaganda for the Chinese government, which was an objection raised about Not One Less (1999). But even as a viewer who prefers to focus on Zhang Yimou's artistry and artistic expression rather than his "hidden political agenda," it would be rash to ignore the subtly subversive, wry irony interspersed in this film. No candy coating is painted upon the stiff policies of the state, which forbid foreigners from observing the internal workings of the prison system. The image of prisoners marching and chanting a din of self-improvement, reminiscent of the Cultural Revolution era, is equally stark. But beyond the state is the individual, and in this film as in many of Zhang Yimou's others, it is the triumph of the individual outside of his context that rings true.

What I disliked about this film, however, is that it seems Zhang Yimou has a tried-and-true formula which works, and works well, but which makes Qian Li Zhou Dan Qi feel slightly recycled (this probably wouldn't present a problem to those unfamiliar with his other films). The theme of a persistent individual's journey past bureaucracy and dispassion was explored in The Story of Qiu Ju (1992) and Zhang Yimou's use of local non-actors was a repeat from Not One Less. Moreover, this film does not escape the slowly-simmering tragic element that, though beautiful, is characteristically Zhang Yimou. I tended to enjoy the more circuitous route to tragedy in Happy Times (2000). But bottom line: after the martial arts movies secured his international fame, Zhang Yimou has created a film reminiscent of his earlier work, truly representative of his talent & vision, and which will probably receive more widespread attention— deservedly so.

It has been a long time since Zhang last pull an intimate angle on his film. It feels good to watch a simple story that filled our emotions right to the brim.

If i'm not wrong. this is the first time Zhang focus on MAN's emotion. His protagonist have always been females. (The 2 most famous actress from china - gongli and zhang ziyi is a result of his great foresight.) Zhang Yimou possess a good eye for casting. Both old man and little boy exudes certain stunning charisma that i find them look alike to each other. Both possess a ruggard face that reads hardship and strength. Ironically these man and boy of rock are hit by the softness of kinship. whatever it is, they stand tall in the face of sad history. watching the heart map of a solid MAN like takakura is one of the most touching thing for me. i was moved by the story.

it was so rare to watch the male characters to be dissect by Zhang. When that happens, they are much pale (quiet & reserved) in comparison to the other female characters in zhang's previous film. for me, that is novelty. kudos to zhang for reinventing himself!

In this film, Zhang Yimou portrays the stark difference between Japanese and Chinese culture without succumbing to biased tendencies. Among the numerous cultural differences, perhaps the greatest visual distinction would be the colorful masses of China against the gray, solitude of Japan. The audience becomes aware of these contrasts as Takata, a Japanese father sets out on a journey to China in hopes of improving his estranged relationship with his son who is dying from liver cancer. Through his travels Takata comes to a greater understanding about life, himself, and his son's interest with the Chinese culture, especially the folk operas.

Good films depict feelings truthfully; with great works of art, you experience emotions deep within yourself. Zhang Yimou's "Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles" is not only a three-hankie movie, it may leave you with a sense of being changed, of being connected to others in new ways. It is that powerful, that important a work.

"Only connect" - E.M. Forster's imperative for creating ties - is at the heart of Zhang's new film, but with a twist. Takata, the central character, is an elderly Japanese, seemingly unconnected to anyone, a man with a frozen face and heart, long estranged from his only son, who has now fallen gravely ill. Ken Takakura, one of the most majestic actors alive (an ideal - perhaps the only - Lear around), is Takata, his uncommunicative, stony presence compelling attention and generating a mix of apprehension and pity.

Takata's journey to China's Yunnan province to complete his son's filming of the legendary song "Qian li zou dan qi," that gave the film its title, is full of twists and turns. Zhang tells the story with honesty, integrity, and Parsifal's "wisdom through compassion." In a brilliant stroke, Zhang opens and closes the film with the same scene - Takata, motionless, gazing over the confluence of gray sea and sky - but he, along with the audience, is in a completely different place, the unchanged exterior masking a person richly transformed by daring, risk-taking humanity.

Zhang, a master of producing a variety of genres and styles, put everything into this work (except the wushu grandeur of "Hero" and the upcoming "Curse of the Golden Flower") - the broad sweep of "Raise the Red Lantern," the chamber music of "The Road Home," the joyful melodrama of "Happy Times," and a dozen other works.

"Riding Alone" is adventure, psychological drama, a "quest film," unveiling spectacular vistas and the deep divisions/underlying connections between individuals and civilizations. And yet, through all this, "Riding Alone" is all of one piece, a grand novel in tightly connected (but ever-surprising) chapters, a 19th century literary saga in a 21st century setting.

If the film were presented in a series of silent close-ups of Takakura, it would be glorious enough, but the bonus is an army of non-professional actors, in addition to the magnificent Shinobu Terajima as Takata's daughter-in-law; Qiu Lin as Lingo, the would-be interpreter; Jiang Wen as Jasmine, the accomplished translator; Yang Zhenbo as Yang Yang, an amazing child star in a pivotal role; and Chinese-opera star Li Jiamin as himself.

If you're looking for a detailed story line, you will not find it here. Why would you deny yourself the pleasure of being taken along on a superb, heartwarming ride of surprise and discovery?

Far removed from his politically and socially conscious films of the 90s that reflected the institutionalized oppression in early twentieth-century China, Zhang Yimou's latest efforts have ranged from martial-arts films that come to terms with the status quo to bland character studies of village life. Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles, an unconvincing drama about the emotional fallout from the lack of communication between a taciturn father and his seriously ill son, continues in the same lightweight vein. Although it is a well-crafted film, the best thing it has going for it is the wonderful performance of 70-year old veteran Yazuka actor Ken Takakura whose emotionless persona makes Clint Eastwood look like Robin Williams.

The story involves the estrangement (never explained) between Gou-ichi Takata and his son Ken-ichi (Kiichi Nakai) who is dying of Liver Cancer in a Tokyo hospital. After traveling from his fishing village to the hospital and being turned away by his son, Takata resolves to make a final gesture of reconciliation. He watches videotape given to him by his daughter Rie (Shinobu Teraima) that was filmed in the Chinese province of Yunnan where Kenichi had been gathering material for a research project on Chinese folk opera. Takata decides to travel to China to fulfill his son's thwarted goal - to film the opera singer Li Jiamin (Li Jiamin) singing a selection from the folk opera Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles.

Battling a language barrier, Takata's trip to China is Lost in Translation redux, only with some unlikely characters showing the happy face of Communism. These include a prison warden with a soft heart toward his prisoners, robust, happy villagers in a remote area of rural China, and a bright, uninhibited eight-year old who is constantly tugging at our heartstrings. Takata, assisted by earnest interpreters Jasmine (Jiang Wen) and Lingo (Lin Qui), learns that the singer Li Jiamin is serving a prison term of three years and an appeal for filming in the prison means getting permission from high level ministers in the Chinese bureaucracy. Unlike the experiences of Qui Ji in an earlier Zhang film, however, the experience is not overly daunting for Takata who is singularly resolved to accomplish his goal.

After viewing a filmed message from Takata pleading for permission to film Li performing a song from the opera in prison, the Bureau Chief is moved and grants him permission. Unfortunately, when the filming is set, Li has too many unresolved emotional issues concerning his own son to allow him to continue and Takata resolves to find Yang Yang, Li's son, and bring him to his father in order to allow him to complete the filming. Ultimately the journey of Takata for his son turns out to be one of discovery for himself and, as he must rely on the good will and support of the people around him to achieve his purpose, he discovers his own ability to give and receive love.

Riding Alone has a good message - that open and honest communication in a family is more important than being right but the message is undercut by a surfeit of schmaltz and plot contrivances and Yimou again fails to reach the magic of the earlier years.

A young Japanese film maker is in hospital in Tokyo. His estranged father tries to visit, but the son refuses to see him. So, as a gesture of reconciliation, the father decides to go to China to complete the filming of a Chinese opera, called "Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles," which the son was working on but unable to finish. But the master singer whom the son was most interested in filming is now in jail, so official permission must be granted. And then the singer has a breakdown because he wants to see his own young son who is way off in the country somewhere. So the Japanese father now has to travel distances to find the son of the singer. A strong and beautiful film as one would expect from master director Yinou Zhang, it is a tale of one man's journey both into the world and into himself. In a way, it's a road movie, but there's more than one kind of road involved. Unlike his more dramatic fantasies, this is a quiet and haunting story, filled with stunning images from the hidden heart of China. Highly recommended.

This movie is Incredible. There is no Multi star cast, no CGI effects or Martial action scenes , no Sex scenes; yet it is the most captivating movie I have ever seen in my life.

The guy who acted as father is outstanding.

There are many great living actors such as De Nero,Pacino,Nicholson,Freeman,Hanks,Denzel, from Hollywood; Anthony, o'toole,Jude law,from UK ;Kamal,Aamir,Nasreeudin,Om puri from India and other greats from various parts of World. But no one could have acted better than man who acted as Father in the film.

Director has chosen locations to reflect character's moods. Every character fits into the film.

Almost all filmmakers from Asia should watch this movie to see how to handle Emotional scenes in a movie.

My star 10/10

In a village of fishermen in Japan, Takata (Ken Takakura) misses his son Kenichi, to whom he has been estranged for many years. When his daughter-in-law Rie (Shinobu Terajima) tells him that Kenichi is sick in the hospital, she suggests Takata to come to Tokyo to visit his son in the hospital where he would have the chance to retie the relationship. However, Kenichi refuses to receive his father in his room, and Rie gives a videotape to Takata to know about the work of his son. Once at home, Takata sees a documentary in the remote village Lijiang, in the province of Younnan, about the passion of Kenichi, the Chinese opera, where the lead singer Li Jiamin (Jiamin Li) promises to sing an important folk opera on the next year. When Rie calls Takata to tell that her husband has a terminal liver cancer, Takata decides to travel to Lijiang to shoot Li Jiamin singing the opera to give to Kenichi.

"Qian Li Zou Dan Qi" is a magnificent movie about fathers and sons in a wonderful journey to understanding and redemption that will certainly bring tears and smiles to the viewer. The screenplay perfectly discloses in an adequate pace the touching and heartbreaking story of a man that tries reconciliation with his son filming the opera in China and finally understands the feelings of his son. It is also a story about lost chances in life to be close to those we love since people usually forget that time is irreversible and life is unique. The cinematography is amazing, as usual in Yimou Zhang movies. Ken Takakura gives a top-notch performance supported by the excellent acting of a few professional actors and actresses and an amateurish cast. The music score is very peaceful and beautiful. I have just included this gem in the list of my favorite movies ever. My vote is nine.

Title (Brazil): "Um Longo Caminho" ("A Long Way")

Returning to more character based storytelling, Yimou Zhang eschews the heavy production and vibrant action that has characterized his latest martial artsy films such as Hero in favor of this lower-key drama which tells the tale of one father's journey on a unique road trip throughout China. Although it would seem that this movie has many of the ingredients making for the profound film experience Riding Alone For Thousands Of Miles attempts to be, way too much falls flat here unfortunately.

Right from the abrupt introduction, one may sense something is quite not right for the tone of this film. Often lingering with beautifully shot imagery throughout nature, the script awkwardly contradicts this flow, feeling rushed, underdeveloped, and poorly written all at the same time, despite the sensitive and introspective pace Zhang was trying to achieve. The gentle performance of veteran Japanese actor Ken Takakura, while providing a pleasant enough diversion for a typical protagonist, simply does not have the energy to carry the film based on an extremely limited range of output here. His highly stoic demeanor does have it's subtle charm, but ultimately did not convey much of the emotional depth a heartfelt climax wished to culminate with. Likewise, many of the film's more emotionally heavy scenes, while thematically feeling strong, are certainly exploited and rendered less resonant by the unfortunate pandering that one feels the director is trying to impose on more sensitive types.

Sometimes, a director will know how to take material to a more personal realm, but here it just feels like whenever an important revelation or parallel to the main character's family life is in play, the execution becomes even more heavy handed and manipulative then the usually slow pace. It is too bad writing and direction cannot match the heart of this work, since the story itself is a beautiful one.

Getting into the human equation and away from acrobatic flying daggers, director Yimou Zhang spins solid gold in his latest film, RIDING ALONE FOR THOUSANDS OF MILES.

Set against the stunningly picturesque Yunnan Province in southwestern China, Gou-ichi Takata (Ken Takakura) leaves his beloved Japanese fishing village to travel thousands of miles and finish video recording a famous Chinese folk opera for his dying son.

Mr. Takata and his son have become distant since the death of Mr. Takata's wife, not speaking to one another for years. When word comes to him that his son, Ken-ichi, is in the hospital, Mr. Takata races to the city only to be rebuffed by his son's bitterness. Mr. Takata never sees his Ken-ichi, but his son's wife, Rie (Shinobu Terajima), tells Mr. Takata an interesting story about his love of Chinese folk dancing. She hands him an unfinished tape of Ken-ichi's work and, after watching it, Mr. Takata decides to finish the recording. "Not being good with people," Mr. Takata immediately encounters problems when he enters China. But he learns quickly, and finds humility within himself in order to finish the tape.

Mr. Takata knew that his son wanted to film one particular opera (also called Riding Alone For Thousands of Miles) sung by one particular Chinese man named Li. But Li is in prison after stabbing a man. Getting permission to film Li performing the folk dance from the government higher-ups becomes one of Mr. Takata's earliest obstacles. Then, after gaining access, Mr. Li has a meltdown, thinking about his own distant son. Emotional beyond repair, Mr. Li is unable to dance for Mr. Takata. So Mr. Takata leaves to come back another day ...but an idea is sparked in his head.

Mr. Takata goes to "The Stone Village" to see if he can convince Mr. Li's five-year-old son to come back with him to the prison so that he can visit. What follows is one of the most emotionally impacting moments in Chinese film history. Unable to be close to his own son, Mr. Takata transfers much of his emotional heft onto young Yang Yang (Mr. Li's son), and audiences will no doubt spill plenty of tears as this happens.

The beauty of the surrounding countryside in the Yunnan Province is an awesome spectacle to behold; a backdrop that towers in all its majesty.

Ken Takakura deserves Oscar mention for his quiet yet powerful (and heartbreaking) role as the conflicted and determined Mr. Takata.

All of the other actors are not actors, though. They are ordinary people picked by the director for their appearances and mannerisms; excellently done by the way. There's little doubt most will know that none of them have acting experience unless DVD watchers click on the extra features.

A brilliantly done foreign film that proves director Yimou Zhang isn't just an action freak.

'Qian li zou dan qi' ('Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles') is a little miracle of a film by the gifted Chinese director Yimou Zhang, an artist highly respected for his films of passion and martial arts captured in richly symbolic fashion and spectacular color. But in this film the director joins in writing a story with Jingzhi Zou that is as intimate as his other films are operatic. It is a simple, touching story told in manner that maintains Zhang's visual artistry yet goes so far beyond the glorious color to probe universal questions.

Gou-ichi Takata (Ken Takakura) lives by himself in a fishing village since the death of his wife. Apparently he was so devastated by her passing that he left his son Ken-ichi to grow up by himself, an act that Ken-ichi has never forgiven: the two men have had no contact in many years. Takata receives a telephone call from his daughter-in-law Rie (Shinobu Terajima) informing him that Ken-ichi is hospitalized with a grave illness and pleads with Takata to come visit his estranged son. Takata complies, but on arrival at the hospital his son refuses to see him. Rie shares a videotape Ken-ichi made about his obsession with Chinese folk opera, and when Takata plays the tape he sees that his son's burning desire to tape a performance by Chinese singer Li Jiamin (who plays himself) singing the greatest of his roles - an opera names 'Riding Alone for a Thousand Miles' - was thwarted by the singer's illness at the time, Takata decides to reconcile his paternal distance and travel to Yunnan Province of China to complete his son's tape and vision.

Upon arrival in China Takata discovers that the singer is in jail and he obtains the translator services of Lingo (Lin Qiu) and Jasmine (Jiang Wen) who ultimately help him to overcome the endless red tape to gain an audience with the singer in his jail. Though Li wants to sing his famous role of Takata to film for his son, Li requests that first he be able to see his illegitimate son Yang Yang (Zhenbo Yang) who has been adopted by a little village called Stone Flower. Takata, with the aid of his translators, visits Stone Flower and the people there greet Takata with warmth and give their consent to allow Yang Yang to accompany Takata to see the father he has never met. But on the road out of China Yang Yang strays and Takata and Yang Yang spend a night in the frightening depths of a canyon: they bond with complex shared needs until they are rescued the next morning. Though Yang Yang has developed a love for Takata he doesn't want to leave his village and Takata departs back to the prison alone to tell Li. At the prison Takata shares with Li and his fellow inmates photographs of Yang Yang: everyone is so moved that Li performs the opera for Takata's son on videotape as a gesture of love.

Takata has accomplished his mission of reconciliation with his own son, but Rie calls him to inform him that Ken-ichi has died but left a letter addressed to Takata that explains how deeply moved the son is that his father would make the journey to China, riding alone for thousands of miles out of love. The gesture is enough for Ken-ichi.

Zhang tells his story in both Mandarin and Japanese and the translations reflect the differences on the two countries but also represent bridges between the ancient and the modern, between cold interior calloused heart and the warmth of love. The filming and accompanying musical score are as always in Zhang's films beautiful beyond description. This is a film to cherish, one that is so understated in its approach to father-son relationships that it will touch chords of recognition in every viewer. Highly recommended. Grady Harp

My extremely limited knowledge of Asian cinema revolves almost entirely around that of South Korea; ignorance is a word which quickly springs to mind when considering both Japan and China. Having just last night endured the interminably fatuous nonsense of the Japanese Desu Nôto, I was somewhat afeared of returning so soon to that country.

Qian Li Zou Dan Qi tells the tale of the elderly Mr Takata, who journeys from his native Japan to a small Chinese village in order to record the titular mask opera for the benefit of his terminally ill son, from whom he is a decade estranged.

Now, obviously one terrifically awful film does not an awful national cinema make. However, I genuinely was a little put off by the prospect of watching another Japanese film so soon after the preceding opprobrium. Qian Li Zou Dan Qi begins with a combination of impressive and foreboding elements: its cinematography is immediately impressive; its apparent reliance on voice-over narration to express its main character's thoughts a little primal. Both of these remain, to some extent, present throughout the film, the former continually providing breathtaking visuals, the latter offering a slight detraction to the film's potential effect. To dwell on one for a moment, the rurality of the Chinese settings provides beauty aplenty for the camera, and we with it, to gaze upon. Many are the times wherein mountainous landscapes offer a stunningly beautiful accompaniment to the oriental soundtrack, the two combining to create a powerful and moving aesthetic which, the more the film goes on, demonstrates director Yimou Zhang's artistic mastery. Aside from the opening shot, the earlier parts of the film seem to lack a distinct visual prowess, but fret not, this is more than made up for by the end. Several times, the visuals convey thematic ideas to us through a combination of sky-spanning cinematography and telling blocking (wonderful to see that element of mise-en-scène utilised well), yet this is marred somewhat mere seconds later by the voice-over presenting the same ideas. Whilst I accept that this may be an accessibility issue—cinematic language is not one universally spoken—I did feel the film could have got along perfectly without narration at all, though it is by no means a serious flaw. The theme of paternal stoicism is one which I find inherently interesting at the worst of times, and is here given a fascinating treatment, the entirety of the film's effect hinged upon Ken Takakura's beautifully subtle performance. A gentle comedy permeates the film's dramatic layers, but always finds itself immediately overturned by the sombre drama of Takakura's face, which speaks volumes upon volumes with the simplest of motions. A wonderful element of the film comes in the form of the mask opera's singer's son, and the concomitant metaphorical representation of the relationship between Takata and his own son, an interesting and wholly effective means of presenting an otherwise unrealised dynamic. The film's eventual conclusion is tear-inducingly moving, capping a story that is described encompassingly in a single, simple word: lovely.

A very finely shot film which knows how to talk to its audience with images rather than words, yet still somewhat disappointingly opts to employ them, Qian Li Zou Dan Qi is a touching Japanese/Chinese co-production which attests to the beauty of both nations' rural landscapes and cultural aspects, as well as offering a genuinely moving, poignantly performed, and universally relevant tale.

Zhang Yimou's last two martial arts films had much to commend them, but, honestly, I'd trade ten such films for this. It was almost too much to hope for that the director would return to his earlier, humanist style of film-making that saw "The Road Home," "Not One Less" and "Happy Times" - but he has, and wonderfully so.

Ken Takakura, who has appeared in fine films such as "Poppoya" and "The Yellow Handkerchief," really shines here. It's his film all the way, and a wonderful tribute that Zhang chose to craft this film for him.

While the core of the film lies with the emotions of the characters, I should also point out that the cinematography here is splendid - there are shots that are as breathtaking as anything in "Hero" and "House of Flying Daggers."

The overall premise is a good one, filled with promise. However, as is, a number of serious flaws prevented it from excelling.

1. There was no reason given nor any could be surmised for the father to so single-mindedly believe that filming the village opera was what the son really wanted. As the entire plot hinges on this point, the entire movie is therefore contrived on a major false premise.

2. Another huge flaw is that there is no reason at all again, for the father to insist that the opera singer must be Mr Li. Other equally capable performers were available but he refused for no reason other than the director needing to create another major false premise to allow the plot to continue.

3. The central actor (the father) is one of those who think that having a blank face almost throughout is considered acting. His expressionless robotic demeanour and stifled speaking is downright irritating and unbelievable. The few occasions he did deliver somewhat was too few and far between. It is bewildering to have a main character actor that is overshadowed by every other secondary characters. Yang Yang the boy is especially natural and convincing.

4. Not having even a basic dictionary when travelling to a totally foreign country with no common language is again just outright contrivance simply to create numerous clumsy 'translation' scenes.

5. The prison warden is overly and unnecessarily friendly and obliging in a totally unbelievable way.

5. I normally hold Zhang Yimou's movies in high regard. However, in this one he too obviously try to pull at heart strings in a none too subtle Hallmark-ish icky manner, and this was another key element that brought the movie down. This movie is clearly far far from his other works.

Overall it is an average-y ok watch, but go for the other much better Zhang Yimou's outputs.

To be brutally honest, I have to confess that I spent a good part of this movie struggling not to succumb to the temptation to fall asleep. Director Yimou Zhang makes a deliberate attempt to tug on the viewers' heart strings with "Riding Alone" but aside from a handful of scenes near the end of the movie (particularly those that portrayed the relationship between Takata and Yang Yang) I can't say that I found myself especially moved. The story is about a Japanese man (Takata) whose son (Rie) is gravely ill in a Tokyo hospital. The two have been estranged for years and when Takata visits Rie in the hospital, Rie refuses to see him. Takata, however, takes home a video given to him by Rie's wife, which gives Takata a greater understanding of his son's dreams, and compels him to travel to Yunnan Province in China to fulfil one of those dreams. For whatever reason, this movie just didn't make a connection with me. The scenes set inside the Chinese prison particularly struck me as being very unlikely. I have difficulty believing that conditions in that environment would be so welcoming to a foreigner and so apparently comfortable for the inmates.The last half hour or so wasn't bad but I have to say that I had a lot of difficulty making it that far. 2/10

Too much emotions and pain in a single person, a story that gives a lesson of life. Takata is extremely herd by his wife's death that he plunges into loneliness and no-contact with his son Kenichi who is dying of cancer at a hospital, refusing to see his father. A journey that helps Takata rediscover the value of family through the grace of Yang Yang, a kid whose father is imprisoned for an ironic act of defense. The movie is all about self analysis and forgiveness; Takata stops been emotionless after he was told about Kenichi's death, but specially after having experienced the cultural values of a foreign country. The narrative is the only fact I felt a bit ambiguous; however, the real language that must be spoken in this film is the language of feelings and expressions.