It’s always a pleasure to see more Japanese cinema made readily available to UK/USA shores, especially that of a more dramatic mode. I love the Gonzo stylings of Tetsuo and Takashi Miike, as much as the next reviewer, but my heart will always be with the contemplative works of Ozu and his ilk. And Mayu Nakamura’s film neatly slots into that category, now viewable courtesy of the SAKKA Films streaming service.
It’s impossible to write about She Is Me, I Am Her without mentioning Hamaguchi’s Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy, as both are anthologies of modern disconnect in Japan linked by piano music, gentle tragedies of miscommunication. The comparisons are only magnified by the shared casting of Fusako Urabe, here appearing in the first segment. But where Hamaguchi explores life pre-COVID, Nakamura is interested in how our delicate social connections were strained by the pandemic, presenting four different variations on the theme. It’s also a showcase for the actress Nahana, the single cast member to appear in multiple stories.
Perhaps because of her substantial running time, she’s easily the film’s biggest draw, although she’s ably supported in the first three stories. In these, she plays a woman at a socially distanced reunion, a grieving woman reaching out to a food delivery man and a sex worker befriending a lonely older actress, respectively. All the performances demonstrate a lovely capacity for vulnerability, especially in story two, “Someone to Watch Over Me”. Wearing a pair of oversized spectacles that significantly magnify her eyes, she gazes at the delivery man with such delight as he wolfs down the various meals he brings her that it’s almost comical. Gently comical, mind, for Nakamura is never mocking of her characters. Like Ozu in The Flavour of Green Tea over Rice, the ritual of sharing food is a way of mending aloneness, finding solace with another person for a moment.
That emphasis on connection marks the most melancholy of the four segments, Ms. Ghost, where two disparate women suddenly find a point of reference in their identification with Nina in Chekhov’s The Seagull. But where Nina’s assertion that “I am an actress” feels powerful, it rings hollow for two women whose dreams of stardom have deserted them, leaving them on the margins of society. That all of this is sketched in a few moments underlines Nakamura’s strength as a director. While her limited runtime (at only seventy minutes) means she cannot reach any real depth in her situations, she focuses instead on the small moments, the slight human gestures that are magnified into moments of real meaning by their honesty.
Sadly, it’s undone a little bit by the final segment, where Nahana plays a blind woman being scammed by a young hustler. There are shades of Intimate Strangers, Nakamura’s disturbing pas de deux release of the same year, but it opts for a rather treacly portrait of disabled naiveté, at least to me. Which is a shame, because until then She Is Me, I Am Her does a good line in sweet but sincere. Still, if you love Japanese dramas like Departures or Hamaguchi’s aforementioned anthology, this will likely soothe that spot for you.
Looking forward to seeing what else SAKKA will be bringing to these shores!
She is Me, I am Her is out now on SAKKA Films
Ethan’s Archive – She is Me, I am Her
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