After Life

On paper, the premise of Hirokazu Kore-eda's After Life is both a little tired and a little treacly. Arriving at a way station between Earth and Heaven, the newly dead must select one memory to take with them before they're sent on to their final rest. Albert Brooks mined similar territory, with mixed results, in the comic Defending Your Life.

Yet Kore-eda, in only his second feature, has produced a revelation, one of the most moving, soul-stirring films I've seen in years. His stroke of genius was to develop the script by asking 500 Japanese citizens, many of them elderly, to share the memory they found most profound. Many chose sad or sobering moments, including wartime experiences. Disappointments, missed opportunities, words unsaid all loomed as large as love, family, and success. Kore-eda weaves documentary interviews with his fictional script, slowly revealing the handful of characters who will fill the center of the story.

For most of the dead, selecting a memory is simple. They are processed quickly, shuffling off to Heaven like refugees at Ellis Island. But those who can't find a meaningful moment are assigned to guides, who coax them to look more deeply. Once a memory is finally chosen, the team of guides re-creates it on film for the deceased, who then can move on. The guides are naturally empathetic, for they remain stuck themselves, still unable to select a memory of their own to cherish.

Among those haunted by a life of little meaning is an old man named Watanabe, who reviews videotapes of his prosaic existence looking for a glimmer of half-remembered passion. He is guided by the much younger Mochizuki, who finds in Watanabe's search echoes of his own dreams deferred. Usually in Japanese films, the old impart wisdom to the young. Here, the young man holds answers to questions that the old man can't even ask.

Ultimately, even the mechanics of plot don't do justice to After Life. There are no angels or celestial choirs here, only bureaucrats of the otherworld facing another work week. Blending the everyday and the cosmic, Kore-eda has made miracles.

-- Scott Heller