The story is very plain and simple, yet the grey tone of screen and memory can't really grasp my heart. It looks like someone tells a story to me instead of watching a movie. The lost and loneliness can be expressed definitely in a better way. Any other way would be better than this. An empty film.
A lyrical poem, a painting in watercolour, a piano sonata (of which you'll hear many lovely ones here) of a film that wanders through the halls of its own timeline reflecting on how muted the brushstrokes of solitude can be for one purely existing in space. The sombre score, grey tones and slow-gliding camera pans conjure up the mood of this life fable perfectly - at once heartfelt and detached.
Tony Takitanis richtiger Name ist Tony Takitani. Poetisch erzählt in gemächlichem Tempo und Bildern mit immenser Sogwirkung, führt uns der Film lakonisch über den Zeitstrahl seines Lebens- dies in einer immer wiederkehrenden horizontalen Bewegung, in der sowohl Gleichmut als auch Respekt zu liegen scheint, für das was sie sichtbar macht.
Adorable cinematography, which is creating an impression of turning the leaves of Murakami’s book. Along with a sophisticated picture composition, it turns out to be a visually stunning narrative poem. Each scene of Ichikawa’s screen adaption occurs to be a consolidation of omitted words, still conveying the original meaning to an elusive extent. Teariest scene: Tony watering a cactus while the rain is pouring down.
A movie about the search for precision und beauty. The sequences, nearly always scrolling to the left, structure the elapsing time, supported by the slow and constant movement of Ryuichi Sakamoto's piano score. Aesthetically perfect adaptation of Haruki Murakami's novel.