MUBI

The afterlife in Hirokazu Koreeda’s After Life is not the white and serene dreamscape of popular perception. It’s an ordinary and sort of musty office building running on regular electricity and appliances. Agents work here creating films based on a particular memory of the deceased’s choosing. They are simply employees, not sprits or angels but ordinary looking people without supernatural powers. One wonders, at first, how they were chosen for the job. This subversion of the heavenly paradise concept at times seems capable of going into the realm of parody, but After Life has pure gentility in its heart.
Questions arise from this place. Where exactly is this building? Is it in the real world? If so, how do the employees get there? What happens if a living person stumbles upon it? What would happen if one of the departed souls were to wander out? We see an elderly woman without a reply when the agents ask her to think of a memory to take with her in the after life. She just looks out the window at the world she is leaving behind. Then we see her outside the office walls in a beautiful autumn garden. Where is this garden? That there are such questions is not a bad thing. After Life is a movie about such philosophical questions.
Of course, the biggest question presented to the departed and to us as viewers is what single memory would we chose to hold onto for all eternity. What’s fascinating about After Life is the variety of memories collected from a diverse group of people. There are plenty of young people, fondly remembering their first ride down Splash Mountain. There is a businessman and an elder worker who remembers a lifetime of labor collecting fruit. There is also an older woman remembering surviving a great earthquake in her youth.
After Life is an unusual movie to come from Japan. Family unit and the identity crisis ensuing after WWII are common themes, but very little is said about death and beyond. Even Ikiru, which dealt with a dying old man’s reflections on life, did so while the character was still alive.
Perhaps because of the disparity of the topic few have given much thought to this hypothetical scenario. One elder client in After Life comments on the difficulty of choosing just one memory. He never thought of that before. Perhaps we all should. In Japan, this may be a side-effect of a nation long struggling to find an identity. After modeling its political structure on the model of Allied forces after WWII, one of the most daunting questions lingering over the nation is what it means to be Japanese.
Some of After Life is comical, as life often is. Most of it is poignant but never sad. The point of the movie is, after all, that life is not only worth living but also full of wonderful moments. After Life believes that such moments exist even in the most humble lives. Maybe even especially in humble lives since simplicity creates more time to look for everyday joys. The memory preserving staff tries to set an example in how they conduct their work. They have none of the supernatural beams one would expect from workers of their title. To recreate memories, they use simple machines.
The memories themselves glow with simple pleasures. One young man fondly remembers playing in the snow surrounding his grandmother’s cottage in the country, explaining why so much of the movie’s last half is set in a snow-covered landscape. Another older man remembers the first time he tried his favorite soup. Another client chose to remember a peculiar dream. These are everyday pleasures that anyone of us can have.
Physically, After Life doesn’t move much. It shouldn’t. It’s a movie about questions. It is made with such great care that it takes time to focus and resolve the questions it brings to the table. It plays like a wondrous kaleidoscope of life fragments.
There is a touching moment when an older man watches the video of his selected memory. He sees himself as a young man, newly married. Following him, the silent old woman comes out of her shell and relives her favorite memory being recreated to film.
For a film of such sweet simplicity, After Life contains some masterful shots. There is a magical moments of whimsy when a young woman walks the city streets of her childhood and beautiful exterior shots in Japanese gardens. This is an incredibly well-made film.
Eventually, After Life answers most of our questions. We learn that the wonder workers of the afterlife are themselves dead. They hadn’t fulfilled their missions in life and were given a second chance to bring happiness to newly departed souls before they can pass on. In this regard, the people they serve are lucky. Whether they know it or not at first, they have led full and productive lives. A single memory is their keepsake from a lifetime that didn’t go to waste.

There are many films referred to as ‘lifelike,’ as a positive attribute. This marvelous film – ironically about a post-mortem limbo world – is one of few that actually earns the term.

AFTER LIFE’s contents are well-summarized by many other reviewers here, so I’d rather point out a few other notable aspects of the film, rather than rehash previous comments.

Kore’eda’s roots were in documentary work, and a fascination with the kinds of stories that might unfold right before our eyes is one is strongly explored here, and in his other work. The same holds true for memory – specifically it’s instability, it’s idealistic qualities, and it’s romantic nature. This focus was – according to Kore’eda – actually inspired by the Alzheimers-related decline of his grandfather (a major personal influence and role-model) – and this interest was also powerfully explored in his earlier MABOROSI (grief and growing beyond grief), and DISTANCE (a real masterpiece, charting the shifts between grief, blame, redemption and forgiveness between individuals who survivied a cult terror attack).

In AFTER LIFE, the same themes are allowed to slowly unfold, with a slow and recollective quality that – to me – has always been riveting. The film is very quiet in its’ nature, so it may not be for everyone, but the drift towards naturalistic revelations is handled brilliantly here, leading to surprising moments of tenderness, and of dry and unexpected humor. This is a film in which nothing feels forced, but a gradually-coalescing story does emerge, and move along on its’ own hypnotic power.

There is yet another theme present here as well – the transformative magic of film as a creative medium. The varied memories of the recently departed are commemorated in/as short films, improvisationally staged, which – under Kore’eda’s guidance – is something of a love letter to film’s potential as something democratic, and something that could record the spontaneous history and magic within ‘ordinary’ lives.

Successful at many levels, all of which weave together with skill and subtlety, AFTER LIFE is one of my favorites from recent decades. I highly recommend.

Nearly a decade after Albert Brooks suggested that each of us must prove his mettle in an after-life court of law (DEFENDING YOUR LIFE, 1991), Japanese director Hirokazu Koreeda imagines us starring, post-mortem, in a supernatural film of our life’s happiest moment.

AFTER LIFE is a richly imagined, completely original, and deeply moving film for an age when most understand the story of their lives as cinema.

The first part of the film is about each character remembering, deciding, and then choosing a memory that will follow them into eternity.

This is an agonizing choice for some…very easy for others. Some choose simple moments, while others pick more dramatic, obvious moments. Yet in each character’s choice, we see ourselves, our own lives…our own life-defining stories.

The second part of the film plays like a behind-the-scenes, making-of documentary about each character stepping in to the literal role of their life.

Koreeda smartly supports his documentary-styled narrative with a parallel story…that of a quasi-romantic relationship that develops between two after-life facilitators/social workers. And it is in this sub-plot, that he gives voice to the concerns of the still-living.

This is fascinating filmmaking from one of the world’s brightest and most honest filmmakers.

Manière très simple d’aborder la mort en traitant du passage amenant avant l’au-delà qu’est celui des limbes. Une vieille bâtisses, une mise en scène sans artifices alliant caméra à épaules et nombreux plans fixes. L’important c’est de filmer tous ces gens qui passent par ce monde et à qui on demande de ne choisir que le souvenir le plus important de leur (parfois courte) vie. Il y a énormément d’humanité dans ce sujet et une forme de volonté d’exorciser la mort, si effrayante pour beaucoup. Les acteurs sont tous sympathiques. C’est souvent assez touchant. Il existe aussi un beau parallèle fait avec le cinéma car le personnel s’attèle à recréer le souvenir là où le cinéaste ne fait que retranscrire une réalité qui n’en est pas une. C’est aussi le principal défaut de l’oeuvre, c’est qu’on laisse un peu de côté ce penchant pour quelque chose que l’on recrée et qui ne semble pas être mis en doute. Toutefois, comprenons Hirokazu qui tente d’insuffler énormément d’aspects positifs dans la mort, le tout avec beaucoup d’imagination. Beau film.

“Empty salons. Corridors. Salons. Doors. Doors. Salons. Empty chairs, deep armchairs, thick carpets. Heavy hangings. Stairs, steps. Steps, one after the other. Glass objects, objects still intact, empty glasses. A glass that falls, three, two, one, zero. Glass partition, letters.” (L’année dernière à Marienbad, by Alain Resnais)

Entah kenapa, film-film fantasi tanpa bantuan efek spesial selalu bisa menarik perhatian saya. mulai dari It’s a Wonderful Life (Frank Capra, 1946), Miracle on 34th Street (Baik versi George Seaton maupun versi Richard Attenborough), Field of Dreams (Phil Alden Robinson, 1989), Groundhog Day (Harold Ramis, 1993), sampai pada Pleasantville (Gary Ross, 1998). Belum lama ini saya kebali menonton film fantasi yang cukup inovatif, After Life. Film ini diarahkan oleh seorang sutradara jepang yang, meskipun namanya belum sebesar Yasujiro Ozu atau Nagisa Oshima, tapi menurut saya cukup menjanjikan: Hirokazu Koreeda.

Mendengar Judulnya, kita mungkin berfikir bahwa film ini menceritakan tentang kehidupan akhirat atau bahkan lewat judulnya mengarah ke genre horror. Begitu pula saya, yang sudah bersiap-siap diberi cobaan berupa scene-scene flat nan hening. Adegan dibuka dengan berkumpulnya banyak orang lalu dipanggil satu-satu kedalam sebuah ruangan, mereka kemudian dibimbing untuk memilih memori apa yang paling berkesan dalam hidup mereka. Percaya atau tidak, mereka ini adalah orang-orang yang sudah meninggal, sehingga memastikan memori yang paling berkesan tidaklah begitu rumit. memori yang mereka pilih tersebut selanjutnya akan divisualisasikan oleh para panitia (Awalnya saya menyangka para panitia ini adalah malaikat, tapi ternyata bukan) kedalam bentuk gambar bergerak. setelah itu, mereka akan dimasukkan kedalam memori terfavorit mereka masing-masing dan tinggal disana selamanya. memori selain yang terfavorit tersebut akan dihapus, juga untuk selama-lamanya. lewat konvensi logika yang aneh ini, Koreeda tidak bermaksud bicara tentang distingsi hidup-mati atau konsekuensi eskatologis yang harus ditanggung seseorang seperti yang diajarkan dalam agama-agama semit, Koreeda murni ingin berbicara tentang memori, dan hanya memori.

Menelusuri sang memori berarti merunut realitas yang dipersepsi seseorang dalam struktur yang terpatah-patah, tak pasti, dan kadang terkesan fiktif. Selalu tak mudah untuk menebak apa sebenarnya yang dipikirkan orang tentang bentuk kenangan mereka, apalagi lewat film. Dalam after Life, Koreeda menyampaikan komplikasi memori tersebut dengan cara yang jauh lebih bersahaja ketimbang percobaan-percobaan sinamatik terdahulu tentang objek yang sama. misalnya seperti yang dilakukan Alain Resnais dalam Hiroshima Mon Amour (1959) dan Last Year at Marienbad (1962). Menarik mendapati seseorang berusaha menyatukan puzzle-puzzle memorinya, menerangkannya didepan orang lain, lalu berusaha mereka ulang memori tersebut untuk kemudian ditempati selamanya. Bagi After Life, memori mimetis inilah yang merupakan ujung seluruh perjalanan manusia. manusia akan hidup dalam imitasi memori mereka sendiri: selamanya.

Menarik juga melihat masyarakat yang semasa hidupnya terfragmen menjadi banyak kelas, menyatu dalam alam yang hening dan hanya membicarakan dua hal: memilih kenangan, dan melupakan yang lain. bagi mereka yang masih berusaha untuk bersikap adil terhadap memori-memori mereka, maka bersiaplah mendapati ruangan sempit dimana mereka takkan dihidupi oleh apa-apa, sebab mereka yang memilih akan semakin percaya diri bercerita, lalu menularkannya pada mereka yang tidak memilih.Terlepas dari ia mencoba adil atau ternyata ragu-ragu (Dari deskripsi saya, Terlihatkan betapa rumitnya film-film Koreeda untuk diceritakan?). Bagi Saya, After life adalah curhat Koreeda tentang pembuatan dokumenternya terdahulu: August Without Him dan Without Memory.

There is something altogether touching, disturbing, perverse, and yet all too comforting about Hirokazu Kore-eda’s After Life. Characters meeting at a way-station between life and what lies beyond must make one final decision. In order to continue into the afterlife, they must each whittle the accumulated experiences of their respective lives down to one essential memory. Each, having chosen their most important instance, is to recreate it at the way-station and carry only the re-created memory with them into eternity.

Although the unfolding of events takes place directly after the characters’ physical deaths, the movie presents what is in itself a microcosm of the trial that underlies all earthly human experience. Upon realizing this, both the original title Wandafuru Raifu (Wonderful Life) and the English reworking After Life, are imbued with meaning beyond the obvious. Inevitably, since the action takes place within the confines of an existence after death, loss serves as the explorative foundation for the analysis of an universal predicament, which is at the same time a very real site of exigency: choice.

Memory selects of its own accord, and through accident. This can be seen keenly if we are to keep in mind the Latin sense of accident, accidere meaning “to happen." For memory, it seems, happens. And the mind is able to maintain its tenuous grasp on sets of happenings in a way that, at best, is only somewhat discriminate. How are we to willfully narrow this down further to a single happening in the past? This would imply that we could truly, absolutely know the nature of purposefulness.

In Kore-eda’s timeless world of the dead, the selfishness, albeit an unwilling one, which accompanies the realization or non-realization of the proposed choice relentlessly confronts the viewer. In illustration of this, we are offered the non-decider, Iseya, and “the life-mute” Yamamoto who wants to forget his entire life, mute it out. In this, the living audience is made aware of their own common dilemma, namely that through the mere act of existence where all of earthly life is constrained and in a state of constant reduction by time’s forces, they are being forcibly hurled towards their own “final moment”.

For us, this moment unto eternity is death itself. For Kore-eda’s characters, after their final moment, they are urged to choose a moment that will perpetually play itself out for them over and over. There is no end to their chosen moment, and with no end, their final moment is never permitted to reach finalization. Paradoxically, there is non-decision in decision; there is non-realization in realization. It is a comfortable trap.
However, throughout the movie, it is made clear that to abstain from decision is to be trapped in yet another way. Clearly, there is pain, indeed, horror at the sight of a real choice, i.e. one that carries eternal consequence.

“I cannot bear to be forgotten by anymore people.” – Shiori

For Shiori, the horror in the face of making her decision is so great, that she is led even further from making a choice than is Takashi. It has taken him more than fifty years to come to the realization of his ideal (perpetually non-realizing) moment. Their “life” at the way station for the dead is one that she has become attached to. She has fallen in love with Takashi and their “time” together, however platonic their love may be on this threshold of life and eternity. But it is finally her choice to relive the moment of her arrival at the way-station as “the final moment” that is profoundly telling. She has fallen in love with indecision. And the presentation of her final decision, the dénouement of After Life, marks the apotheosis of the trial precisely where all four aspects of the movie—the touching, the disturbing, the perverse, and the comforting—intersect.

Because her love characterizes her indecision, it is touching. Amidst the backdrop of timeless time, her desperate desire never to be forgotten carries with it a disturbing element, and one that prompts her to finalize her choice. But Shiori’s decision to never decide, to constantly “relive” her arrival at the very site of all indecision and possible decision, reveals the true nature of the entire enterprise that the movie examines and highlights the perversity in having been afforded the comfort of such a choice as the one Kore-eda offers to his characters. I recommend it highly.

4 out of 5 Stars

Vielleicht bewirkt die Energie, die in uns durch die Bewusstseinsarbeit solcher Filme freigesetzt wird, dass wir in die Lage versetzt werden alle Bilder, die in uns gespeichert sind, jeden Moment neu anzuordnen und durch sie so jeweils einen neuen, erweitertet Blick auf das Dasein zu gewinnen. So als könnten wir den Film, in dem wir leben jeden Moment neu schreiben und schneiden. Das Medium Film macht so aus jeden Menschen ein offenes Kunstwerk. Denn indem wir unsere Erinnerungsbilder, frei von emotionalen Prägungen, beliebig innerhalb neuer Kontexte entdecken lernen, befreien wir uns immer tief gehender von einschränkenden Vorstellungen über das Dasein und kehren immer mehr zurück zum Ursprung aller Bilder. Ein solches von aller Dialektik der Bilder befreites Nach-Leben hat vielleicht bislang kein Filmemacher besser dargestellt als der Japaner Kore-Eda. In “Afterlife“ aus dem Jahre 1998 wird dargestellt wie unsere Vorstellungen vom Tode unserer jetziges Dasein bestimmen, indem die Spannung zwischen bewegten Vorstellungsbildern und der Vorstellung von Zeit ergründet wird. Unsere Vorstellung darüber was der Tod ist bestimmt genauso unser Leben wie eine bestimmte Erzähl-Struktur einen Film bestimmt und Kore- Eda beobachtet in seinem Film, wie Menschen immer mehr oder weniger bewusst damit beschäftigt sind ihre Wirklichkeit hervorzubringen indem sie bestimmten Dingen mehr Bedeutung beimessen als eben anderen. Und er macht dadurch deutlich, dass der Tod vielleicht nur jeweils die Möglichkeit eröffnet nach anderen, gereifteren Maßstäben, Bedeutung zu verteilen und so eine ganz andere, neue Sicht auf die Wirklichkeit zu kreieren. Eine solche neue Sicht kann dann jeweils eine neue Zeitlichkeit, einen neuen Zeitsinn, hervorbringen und dieser wiederum eine neue Sicht auf die wahre Bedeutung des Todes bzw. des Lebens. Schließlich macht “Afterlife“ aber auch deutlich, das der Tod nichts als eine Vorstellung ist, wie ein Bild, an Hand dessen Dinge nur dadurch sichtbar werden, Bedeutung annehmen, indem durch es hindurch auf eine ganz bestimmte Weise die Vergangenheit auf die Gegenwart trifft. War die Menschheit bislang durch die Vorstellung von Tode wie durch ein Bild gefangen gehalten? Hatten wir bislang dem Tode die Kraft eines Fetisch gegeben, der uns völlig in seinem Bann hielt? Und was bedeutet es, dass die Menschheit, durch solche Filme, wie die soeben erwähnten, sich jetzt von diesem Bann zu befreien scheint? Indem wir uns von diesem Bild des Todes, von dieser Kultur des Todes (und der Kommerzialisierung) befreien, lösen wir uns gleichzeitig von Nostalgie, falschen Gefühlen, Habgier, Eifersucht, Zorn, Hass und treten ein in eine bislang ungeahnte Dimension des Geistigen. Oder in der Worten Walter Benjamins aus seinem “Passagenwerk“: „Durch gleichzeitig die Konsequenzen und Möglichkeiten der Technologie bricht die Welt der Erinnerung nun immer schneller auf und mit ihr kommt das Mystische immer schneller und roher an die Oberfläche und deswegen muss als Gegengewicht immer schneller eine vollständig andere Welt der Erinnerung dem entgegengesetzt werden.“

After Life is a profoundly interesting look at the importance of memories in how they are our only ties to our past. The idea of spending eternity with one memory is extremely intriguing and provides a great contrast of the now indoctrinated belief of heaven/hell. The story I found the most interesting was the young girl who originally chose the memory of Disney World, a look at the death of children as not only the premature end of a life, but also how limited they would be in life memories. There is also the sad story of the lonely widower, an old women with the mind of a child, and a teenager who refuses to choose a memory as a way of taking responsibility for his life. This movie also begs the viewer to answer a question: what memory would you choose?