Anyone who’s ever taken a screenwriting class will be familiar with the following situation. The instructor criticizes a student’s scene, only to have the student defend herself by stating, “But it really happened that way!” And thus is learned one of the fundamental lessons of writing: just because it really happened, doesn’t mean it will be entertaining for others to read or watch.
With Ryo Kagawa’s short film, Michiko, the opposite is true. If the story were fictional it would not have been entertaining and would likely have been critiqued for being too sweet, too contrived and too unrealistic. The fact that is is a true story makes it a genuine tear-jerker.
The film follows a young couple, Michiko and Ryo. Michiko studies English in Tokyo, and, on a trip to India she discovers a deep and lasting passion for helping the poor children of the country. She hopes one day to go back to India and work for Khan, who runs an NGO devoted to helping children. Meanwhile, Ryo, through family connections, gets a job in middle management at a contracting company. We can see a conflict brewing already from the setup. Will Ryo be willing to support his wife’s dream of living in India when he already has a steady job in Japan?
But things take a terrible turn when, in the midst of a vibrant life with a bright future ahead, Michiko falls ill with schizophrenia. She’s in and out of the hospital and suffers from delusions and hallucinations. She wants a child of her own, but, because of the medication she takes for her illness, the doctor warns her that any child she bears might be deformed.
If this weren’t all bad enough, Ryo doesn’t seem to have the internal resources to help, or even tolerate, his wife’s condition, let alone her dreams. When she brings up her desire to travel to India, he tells her he’s busy and that she should, “shut it.” When she calls from the hospital in the midst of a delusion, it’s the same refrain: he’s busy and can’t deal with her. A doctor sits him down and urges him to take time off from his job in order to help his spouse. But, again, he claims he’s just too busy. There’s even a suggestion that his aloofness has been a contributing factor to the schizophrenia. But Ryo just doesn’t have it in him to do anything for her.
In a horrifying turn, Michiko kills herself. Ryo wasn’t at her side and in her loneliness, she planned the end. She left a note for Ryo and, in line with her character as a selflessly caring person, her suicide note was a series of recommended foods Ryo should eat to stay healthy and keep his blood sugar low.
But in a wondrous turn, Ryo realizes the error of his ways. Only after her death does Ryo really understand what a special person he was married to, and how rare and important it is to care for others. After his eyes are opened, and perhaps even as a sort of penance, Ryo decides that he will fulfill Michiko’s dream in her stead. He flies to India to meet Khan and devote himself to helping the children. In a very moving touch at the end, we are treated to a series of pictures of the real Ryo in India with Khan and the children.
Again, if this were fiction, it would be too much. As reality, it is a powerful message about the need to care for the caregivers. Michiko was deeply committed to helping others, but she married someone who could not help her in her hour of need. We understand that below the surface, Ryo isn’t uncaring, but is too afraid to face what is happening to his wife head-on.
The photography is consistently engaging, especially shots of blooming flowers in Japan. The acting, particularly that of Narumi Yonezawa who plays Michiko, is fantastic. Yonezawa is totally convincing both as the caring wife and the delusional schizophrenic. The film was in fact co-written and produced by the real Ryo Kagawa. It is a love letter to his late wife.
© 2021. UniversalCinema Mag.