Nobody Knows is one of the most beautiful and lyrical works I’ve seen, yet so tragic. It’s loosely based on an actual incident that took place in 1980s Japan known as “The Affair of the Four Abandoned Children of Nishi-Sugamo.” While the real story is far more harrowing, the film is a gut-wrenching, artistic feat. The young actors are amazing, and the one who plays the eldest won Best Actor at the 2004 Cannes. The kids, each fathered by different men, are in the care of their mother, a child-like woman concerned with her own happiness. As the film opens she and the oldest introduce themselves to the landlord of their new home, but they don’t introduce the other children who are literally smuggled into the building like contraband. In the ensuing weeks, the mother disappears for increasingly longer periods of time, entrusting the oldest with the care of his siblings. Then one day she simply never returns, leaving a sum of cash that clearly will run out. None of the children – ages 3 to 12 – attend school and the only one who ever leaves the building is the oldest, who must venture out to shop. Not only are they invisible to society but their home is a prison. The worst part of it isn’t the abandonment or neglect: it’s the hope that the younger children have, waiting patiently for their mother’s return and the awareness that the older ones have that she’s gone for good. It’s that even as they begin to starve their innocence only gets stronger. The filmmaking is austere, yet every frame of every scene is richly painful because even though we’re not subjected to the expected scenes of children crying, complaining, bickering or cowering in fear, we’re allowed to revel in the small pleasures the children create for themselves – playing, relating to one another, indulging in fantasy, and ultimately, caring for each other. It’s so horrible because we know their reality eventually must catch up with them.