Koreeda’s Nobody Knows: The Structure of a Fictional Documentary Richard HODSON Abstract Koreeda Hirokazu’s 2004 fi lm Nobody Knows, although inspired by a real event, is a work of fi ction that approaches its subject in a way that, due both to the unconventional circumstances of its filming, and to its apparently straightforward, naturalistic plot, looks like that of a documentary. This paper examines a number of motifs – the monorail, suitcases and other bags, a tear, the telephone, the landing of the children’s apartment, bills, nail polish, and hands – that give the fi lm not only structural coherence, but also powerful symbolic weight. Key words: Japanese fi lm, Koreeda Hirokazu, documentary, fi ction Introduction: documentary and fi ction “Documentary” is a word that is all but impossible to avoid in writing on the films of Koreeda Hirokazu, particularly his early features, including Nobody Knows (Dare mo shiranai, 2004).１ One critic of the fi lm (Hoffman, 2010) uses the word in three forms, arguing that it is a “straightforward, documentary- like depiction” of its characters’ lives, which “patiently documents” their slow decline, but also noting that that those lives are themselves “undocumented”. Other critics to use the term include Russell (2004), Jacoby (2008) and the Time Out London review of the fi lm (“Nobody Knows,” 2004). Koreeda himself has used the word liberally to describe his approach to film-making. In an interview with the Asahi Evening News, cited by Richie (2005, p. 246), he explains that “I’m strongly interested in the line between fi ction and documentary … In this fi lm I want to capture that moment in between these two”.2 Refering specifi cally to Nobody Knows, he gives details of the techniques involved in an interview with Midnight Eye (Sato, 2004), in which he describes modifying the actor-driven, un-storyboarded, handheld camera approach of his previous fi lm Distance (2001) in a fi ctional context, with a screenplay, storyboards and a fi xed camera – here, as Schilling (2004) notes, the director is “not just a fl y on the wall with a camera” – but also with an unusual, real-time shooting schedule taking place over one year, and incorporating improvisation by the cast. In another interview a year later, Koreeda hints at the thematic reasons behind 1 Except in quotations from external sources, Japanese names are given in the Japanese order of family name followed by fi rst name, throughout this paper, with macrons used to indicate long vowel sounds when transliterating Japanese names and words. Koreeda’s name is variously Romanized; the form “Koreeda” is used throughout the body of the paper, but in its variant forms in quotations and references. 2 Richie includes this quotation in his discussion of Nobody Knows, but gives the date of the interview as 1999; “this fi lm” cannot therefore be Nobody Knows, but may be After Life (1998). ― 19 ― Journal of the Faculty of Global Communication, University of Nagasaki No. 13 (2012) these seemingly technical decisions: “By blending elements of documentary and fi ction styles, I learned how to show a fuller picture of characters’ lives” (Cacoulidis, 2005). This analysis is expanded upon by Dawson (2008), who argues that: Koreeda’s background in documentary fi lmmaking doesn’t always manifest itself on screen visually … This background more commonly manifests itself on screen thematically - the majority of his films deal with real-life situations, some are inspired or based on real events like Distance and Nobody Knows, others are deeply personal portrayals of a group of individuals. Although considerably removed from it in time, and – as Koreeda explains in his own notes on the fi lm (2005) – having evolved considerably during that period, Nobody Knows is openly based on a real event that took place in Japan in 1988, the Sugamo child-abandonment incident (Sugamo Kodomo Okizari Jiken – 巣鴨子供置き去り事件 ). Reading like the “all persons fi cticious” legal disclaimers that often appear at the end of the closing credits of Hollywood movies, its opening captions tell the viewer that “Although this fi lm was inspired by actual events that took place in Tokyo, the details and characters portrayed in this fi lm are entirely fi ctional”.3 Koreeda’s background in documentary film-making leads him to eschew both sensationalism and overt didacticism – as he had done, according to Mes and Sharp (2005, p. 207) in his early television documentary about suicide, However (Shikashi… fukushi kirisute no jidai ni, 1991) – in favour of an approach that is sympathetic, but also meticulous and calm, making the fi lm for the viewer something like “a disturbing waking-dream” (Russell, 2004), or a “punishing immersion in impotent dread” (Scott, 2005). It is the technique of scrutiny itself that achieves this effect. In Richie’s words (2005, p. 246): “Kore’eda piles one observation on top of another until the weight crushes all this innocence” – but this accumulation of details is neither random nor entirely naturalistic. Nobody Knows may “lack … the usual structuring” (Schilling, 2004), but this is not to say that it lacks any structure. In fact, it is a fi lm packed with structure and symbols. Structures and symbols The monorail Nobody Knows starts at the beginning of its story, and simply continues until it reaches the end of its allotted portion of events. There is little complexity of plot: the camera is turned on the characters and left to run in an linear fashion. Almost, but not entirely linear, as Koreeda does make one deviation from chronology, and this deviation comes immediately after the opening captions, from 0:00:16 to 0:01:20, as we are shown fi rst a long-shot of the interior of the Tokyo Monorail at night, all but empty save for two seated children, then a close-up of the dirty hands of one of the children, resting on a pink suitcase and moving back and forth on its surface as if stroking it, then the head and shoulders of the boy himself, looking down at the suitcase, in a grubby, worn-out T-shirt. There is no music, and the only sound is the faint, rhythmical clanking of the monorail itself. The camera sways along with the carriage; and it 3 References to Nobody Knows, including dialogue translations, are to the Bandai Visual (2005) R2 DVD release of the fi lm. Other fi lms referred to in this paper are given the most commonly used English title listed by the Internet Movie Database (IMDb), with full Japanese titles given in the Filmography. ― 20 ― Richard HODSON : Koreeda’s Nobody Knows: The Structure of a Fictional Documentary looks away after focusing on the boy’s face for ten seconds, to the interior of the train again, and fi nally dissolving out into the urban blackness, and then into the fi lm’s title caption. Taking up little more than a minute at the beginning of a fi lm that runs to nearly two hours and 20 minutes, the scene might well go unnoticed, or be forgotten by a fi rst-time viewer – but it is revisited at the end of the fi lm. This time, the monorail interior is barely glimpsed (2:08:12 to 2:08:28) but its context is now revealed. The pink suitcase is carried gently and carefully passed down the steps of the apartment building (2:06:52), trundled slowly through the shopping arcade (2:07:30), and then carried down the steps of the monorail station, through a tide of passengers (2:07:43). By now, we know its contents and its signifi cance: it contains the body of a fi ve-year-old girl on her way to be buried, by her twelve-year-old brother and his high-school-age friend, in a hand-dug grave in a fi eld near the runway of Haneda Airport. The monorail appears again at the halfway point of the fi lm (1:06:10). Akira (Yagira Yūya) and his sister Yuki (Shimizu Momoko) stand and watch it at night on Yuki’s birthday walk, Akira telling his sister that “It goes to Haneda Airport. Someday, let’s get on and go see the planes”. The scenes that immediately follow this halfway point are crucial. Akira plays in the park on his own. The elder sister Kyoko (Kitaura Ayu) examines the handwriting on her otoshidama (New Year’s money) envelopes, noting the difference between that of previous years and that purporting to be from her mother but written instead by a convenience store clerk at Akira’s behest. Yuki climbs onto a chair, the same action that will eventually lead to her death. The younger boy of the family, Shigeru (Kimura Hiei), breaks the house rules and goes out onto the balcony. Finally, we see Akira again, following other boys into a game centre instead of returning straight home with the shopping to his brother and sisters. The children’s world has changed irrevocably, because their mother – who has already left them on their own for a month – has abandoned them, to start a new life. The monorail punctuates the fi lm, dividing the children’s lives into two periods: that in which there is a mother, or her absence and return, or at least the hope of her return; and that in which there is none of these things. Suitcases and other bags As it begins and ends on the monorail, Nobody Knows begins and ends with bags. The two youngest children are smuggled into the apartment into suitcases, Shigeru in a pink hard case that is bumped up the stairs, and Yuki in a smaller, brown, zipped bag made by Luis Vuitton, the virtually ubiquitous brand of choice of young Japanese women, and the same brand of bag that their mother Keiko (You) takes with her on her second departure.