Still Walking in the east village

Kore-eda Hirokazu appeared last night at a screening of his film Still Walking. A long jacket clung to his rounded shoulders; a few day's beard dotted his face. The screening was one of the many that make up this year's Tribeca Film Festival, and annouced the U.S. premiere of his film.

He made a few remarks before the film screened. He told us that it was a personal film, made shortly after the death of his mother. She had been ill for some time, and he had spent a good deal of time with her in the hospital towards the end reminiscing and making up for lost time.

He told us a story. A nurse came in to wash his mother's face and make sure she was comfortable. His mother praised the nurse and thanked her profusely. After the nurse left, his mother turned to Kore-eda and proceeded to complain about how she was new and didn't quite know what she was doing. The audience laughed. Kore-eda smiled and said that sometimes he thought his mother complained just to have something to complain about. He told us that he was trying to capture a full portrait of the characters in his film; he wanted to include the good with the bad; he didn't want to paint an overly romantic portrait.

He said he was happy for a full auditorium and hoped we liked the film. He thanked the audience and bowed.

In response to questions from the audience after the film, he told us he had come upon the title of the film first. He said at past screenings, people had come up to him with their deep interpretations of the title; he had kindly acknowledged their interpretations and thanked them. Last night he came clean. He said the title had come from the song used as a centerpiece of the film. It was a song his mother had liked, and he had decided the song would appear in the film before he even had a story. He laughed and said it was probably an irresponsible admission for a screenwriter.

He told us that at least 50% of the dialogue spoken by the mother to the main character had been said by his own mother to him. While he was listed as the screenwriter for the film, he said his mother deserved a co-credit for the lines she had given him.

Of the scenes in the film, he said he had witnessed the broken tile in his parent's bathroom and the support bar installed by the bathtub. He admitted similarities to his own life in other ways, but said that much was interpolated or reinterpreted. He shied away from comparisons to Ozu, instead naming another Japanese filmmaker to which he felt he owed homage, a name I didn't quite catch. He answered all the questions patiently and at length, and thanked the audience and the festival again as the evening came to a close.

Walking out of the theater I found Kore-eda standing by the entrance. He looked tired and I heard him say to an organizer that he was thinking of going back to his hotel. He turned to me and I took his hand. I thanked him for his film. I told him I had the opportunity to spend an extended amount of time with my own parents later in the year. I told him I would take as much of that time as I could.
Posted by eku at April 30, 2009 11:44 AM