An
A sweet if somewhat uneven Japanese film with an energetic lead performance.
Overview
If watching An makes you feel hungry, that's completely understandable. Named after a type of Japanese red bean paste, the film is set in a small bakery that specialises in delicacies known as dorayaki, and when it's characters aren't making them, they're wolfing them down. Chief among these folk is unhappy store owner Sentaro (Masatoshi Nagase), who makes the pancake sandwich-like desserts, which are stuffed with the titular paste. When the elderly Tokue (Kirin Kiki) answers his advertisement for an assistant, he's initially reluctant, but changes his mind after sampling her delicious version of the necessary filling.
Cue two predictable elements: an array of scenes depicting the careful preparation and loving production of the tasty treat in question, and a narrative that charts the unlikely bond that blooms between the two colleagues. Both play out largely as expected, although that doesn't mean that An can't provide a few pleasant surprises. Just as the students who frequent Sentaro's shop find delight in his new and improved recipe, so too will audiences find delight in the film's earnest take on a recognisable formula.
The film's biggest asset is the endearing Kiki, who brings texture and depth to a tale that is both bittersweet and hopeful. Her efforts are instrumental in elevating the movie beyond its well-worn plot. Indeed, filmmaker Naomi Kawase can hardly bear to tear the camera away from her leading lady, which could be why scenes focusing on Sentaro's troubled background, or teenaged customer Wakana (Kyara Uchida), don't feel quite as engaging. With the writer-director employing her trademark slow pace and lingering visuals, it's Kiki who gives the proceedings a noticeable burst of energy.
Alas, while the film's star and style both serve it well, other aspects aren't quite as successful. Only some of the plot developments work, with the film assured in its patient first half yet less convincing when it becomes concerned with dramatic revelations. As Kawase tries to work in bigger and broader themes, including passing wisdom between generations and ignoring social conventions in general, her material veers further into sentimental territory. And then there's the accompanying score, which fires up the piano a little too mournfully at obvious moments.
Of course, not just finding but perfecting the right balance of ingredients is as difficult for filmmakers as it is for pastry chefs. Though An marks Kawase's 24th film in 23 years, she's clearly still tinkering with her recipe book. Still, she does more than enough right to make her latest concoction appetising.
