Cinematical

What's in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name, would smell as sweet.

If you judged the film by its title, A Gentle Breeze in the Village sounds like a languishing feature full of long, drawling scenes and the passive impact of a gentle breeze. Because the film is set in the Japenese countryside, one might also imagine a certain amount of economic hardship or social commentary. In other words, a very slow and probably not-too-accessible film; this pleasant surprise of a film, though, is none of the above. Helmer Nobuhiro Yamashita's latest effort, which Aya Watanabe skillfully adapted from Fusako Kuramochi's comic, is a rich, well-paced, preciously sweet, and utterly lovable school tale -- one that never falls into overt drama or conflict, yet retains an overwhelming amount of charm in its storytelling.

A Gentle Breeze in the Village presents a simple and small world where six close-knit children of various ages -- from the immensely adorable youngest tot to the film's star, an 8th grader named Soyo (Kaho) -- attend school in the rural Japanese countryside -- outside of the hustle of Tokyo and big-city life. When the film starts, we see the kids preparing a classroom, running desks back and forth between the modest school's two rooms to get ready for a new student -- the Tokyo-born Hiromi Osawa (Masaki Okada), who happens to be the same age as Soyo.
While they don't get off to a good start (there's an unfortunate incident involving pee), the two eldest students are immediately drawn to each other. For Soyo, Hiromi is only the second boy in the school (the other being her brother), a potential friend who is her age, and the first boy she can have a crush on. For Hiromi, Soyo is someone to dull the ache of being so far from home and being suddenly thrust into such a familial group. (Even when they are not in school, the kids spend most of their time together.) Being in the throes of adolescence, however, Soyo and Hiromi don't slide into a perfect romance. She is not only trying to navigate the new waters of attraction and love, but is also dealing with a loss of control -- she is no longer the lone, eldest voice.

Over the next year and a half, which is skillfully marked by subtle shots of the environment that signify the passage of time without interrupting the story, Yamashita follows the kids as they traverse the trials and tribulations of adolescence. They might be in a school much different from the sort we are used to, but their happiness and angst are familiar. Beyond trying to figure out her relationship with Hiromi and the fear of a first kiss, Soyo acts as a mother figure to the youngest cutie, and tries to deal with the frustration of relating to her few fellow female classmates. While Soyo always means well, she often finds herself innocently saying things that upset them.

It all sounds simple, and perhaps even boringly so, but it is far from it. There is some drama -- we soon discover that Hiromo's mom and Soyo's dad have a past together, and there's also an eerie suicide that scares the kids. But each of these are periphery plot lines, mostly there to show that this isn't some fictional happy land. The charm and flow of the plot comes from the impressive performances of the kids, and how skillfully Yamashita makes us feel involved in their lives. Instead of a journey of dramatic moments to lure you in, you're sucked in by the sweet and recognizable mini-moments.

As a group, there is the unconditional love the youngest kid feels towards Soyo, the girls scheming up plans for Valentine's Day, or how they can quarrel and tease each other, yet quickly settle their differences and retain a tight friendship. For Hiromo and Soyo, there are many memorable interactions -- the subtle scene on the bridge when Hiromo steps between Soyo and the suicide site, as if to shield her, the breaking of a large and heavy rock, and finally, the most bittersweet final attempt at a kiss. What follows, as the film wraps, is an utterly simple moment that wraps up the story and perfectly embodies Soyo's heart and passion.

Yamshita modestly downplayed the film when he introduced it, but I would hazard a guess that most, if not all of the final, sold-out screening thought he didn't do his fantastic film justice. It's remarkable how engaging he made the simple story, and how well he cinematically sold it to each and every one of us. A number of times during the screening, audience members would laugh, cheer, or even applaud. From subtle facial expressions to memorable dialog, A Gentle Breeze in the Village is much more than its name could ever relay. It's a flawless film about the innocence of youth -- and it is a refreshing change from the usual gloomy feeling adolescent tales often leave us with.