This film took me back to my childhood in a massive way. The carefree attitudes, the swimming lessons, discussing how the leftover crisp packet crumbs are the best bits. Luckily, that’s not all my childhood consisted of, had it been I’d probably be an Olympic-level swimmer with a Walkers deal … which upon reflection doesn’t sound all that bad.

I am currently making more of an effort to watch Japanese and South Korean cinema. To be honest, I’m trying to watch more films in general. My best year for Film was 2017 when I was in my second year of University. I’d often receive and be given recommendations from a friend at film school, discussing genre-bending pieces like Ben Wheatley’s A Field in England thanks to a recommendation from the king of film criticism, Mark Kermode.

Of course with Japanese and Korean cinema, the settings are based in places I know little of, which was part of the charm surrounding I Wish (2011),a film directed by Kore-eda Hirokazu. There was something tangible captured in its 128-minute runtime, I myself felt part of this group of friends, feeling somewhat exhausted after watching them traipse up the long and winding hill to school. My journey was slightly easier, consisting of an hour-long bus journey where the sweltering Indonesian weather was only made bearable by the occasional gust of wind from the bus window.

Swimming was an enjoyable part of twelve-year-old Koichi’s day, a subject he’d discuss over the phone with his brother Ryunosuke in great detail. The film was so brimming with a childhood innocence that even when Koichi’s friend revealed his recently dead pet dog was in his backpack, it was endearing and not completely horrifying. There’s obviously more context, yet it proves how focused Hirokazu’s direction was throughout the process, flipping this horror-esque trope on its head. I was totally invested in this journey, eager to watch these brothers reunite amidst the complications of their parent’s divorce.

As a backdrop, Japan plays a huge role in the film, with its many cultural colloquialisms seeping onto the screen. A huge volcano would linger in the background as Koichi would walk to school, its towering presence over Kagoshima a factor that the residents would simply have to put up with. One can only imagine how terrifying that would be as a child, a cultural separation that the director was tasked with communicating to the Western audience.

One of the mothers works behind a bar, serving drinks to elderly gentlemen while reflecting on her failed dream of becoming an actor. Consequently, she projects this onto her daughter, doubting her drive and ability to shine against the blinding lights of Tokyo. As with many of the character arcs, Hirokazu amends this by giving her a real moment in the spotlight, when the consequences are high and the group of friends trailing behind need her to pull through. Even as a child, these little wins go on to have big effects.

There was another scene in which the boys are trying to raise money for what appears to be a cross-country train journey, yet could easily have been a normal commute for your city worker. Events are exaggerated in our youth and the director manages to translate this successfully through his writing. Each of the toys sells for 5000 Yen, with the game shop worker observing them with his intricate figurine-based knowledge. This reminded me of many trades that took place in my childhood, and one in particular which involved me swapping a set of Pokémon cards for a three-headed Japanese dragon. I’d later go on to find out that the dragon was called Ghidorah, a monster of cultural significance in Japanese lore and frequently referred to by the late rapper, MF DOOM. Even the snacks they would eat and drink would take me back to the days of sipping Pocari Sweat in the humidity of the Indonesian summer.

I enjoyed this film a lot. With buckets of heart and spoonful’s of charm, this should definitely be a watch for anyone who has lost their inner child along the way. If you’ve got MUBI then I highly recommend giving it a watch!