Reflections
on “Drive My Car”
Directed
by Ryusuke Hamaguchi
Written
by Ryusuke Hamaguchi and Takamasa Oe
Based
on a short story by Haruki Murakami
Starring
Hidetoshi Nishijima, Toko Miura, Reika Kirishima
The film opens with a
forty-minute prologue of sorts, incorporating scenes that capture the essence
of the relationship between actor and director Yusuke and his wife Oto.
They share a creative
bond in that sexual stimulation helps Oto create storylines which she shares
with her husband and which they go on to develop together.
We learn also that Oto
feels her life serves little purpose and that she thinks she will leave behind
little of worth by way of legacy. She feels she is caught in an existentially
pointless cycle of life in which it seems intimacy and creativity may be used
as a means of seeking temporary fulfilment and this may lend spirit to her colourless
and uninspiring relationship with Yusuke.
There is no passion with
Yusuke and, perhaps because she is unfulfilled, she sleeps with other men in an
attempt to fill the void in her life, and Yusuke is aware of her actions but he
says nothing. Oto will even commit the ultimate infidelity of sharing one of
the stories co-created with Yusuke with a young actor with whom Yusuke will
eventually work.
Although superficially
happy and wanting for nothing, at her core Oto is overwhelmed by a sense of
pointlessness and she is bordering on depression. These feelings are
undoubtedly aggravated by the death of her child some time before, an event
that may in part explain Yusuke’s impassivity. One wonders if they see the
creative process they share as some vain attempt at replacing the sense of
purpose and fulfilment bringing up their child might have given them both.
Oto dies suddenly and
unexpectedly from a brain haemorrhage, leaving Yusuke bereft and struggling to
come to terms with questions and issues raised by his wife’s conduct and death.
These range from existential questions concerning the fragility of life and the
randomness of death to relational issues such as the part we play in others’
lives and how well we can truly know a person and understand the workings of others’
minds. Can we be truly sure of and trust another’s feelings? Yusuke feels he
has failed his wife and he is responsible to some degree for her death, if only
by omission or through vague feelings of inadequacy, but to what extent is he
truly responsible? Will he ever come to terms with his feelings of loss and
guilt, or the guilt he feels if he doesn’t think about her?
All these issues and
more, regarding the nature and truth behind relationships and the human
condition, are explored in Anton Chekhov’s “Uncle Vanya”, a version of which
Yusuke is invited to direct at a theatre festival some two years after losing
his wife.
Yusuke is enormously fond
of his red Saab (a make which perhaps suggests the existential Nordic mindset),
but he is forced by the festival management to accept a personal driver (a
young woman, Misake) for insurance purposes. Yusuke and Misake, who is the age
his daughter would have been had she lived, gradually build trust and a bond,
sharing inner thoughts and painful past experiences.
Yusuke is helped by
Misake to see his wife holistically, i.e., like all of us, Oto was a complex
person and should not be reduced to a set of characteristics or facets that fit
another’s view and judgment of her. Misake persuades or allows Yusuke to see
that Oto loved him and she sought comfort in the arms of others. The one
does not diminish or preclude the other. He has to learn to accept the past and
his situation, and move on. Our purpose is not to dwell interminably on the
past but to live and survive despite painful experience.
In the same way, Misake,
scarred psychologically and physically by various events in her past, feels she
contributed to the death of her mother by not taking action to save her and
this hangs heavily on her conscience. Yusuke is able to comfort Misake and
offer her solace and support by repeating her own advice to accept what is
done, with all its pain, guilt and responsibility, and consign it to the past. We
should not torture ourselves with matters from the past – which may be quite
unfathomable – but rather, after a period of reflection or grieving, focus on
and appreciate the present while doing our best to make it work.
They console one another
like father and daughter, each helping the other to accept and come to terms
with pain, guilt, responsibility and other nagging doubts and regrets, and not
allow events of the past to cast their shadow on the present, and as such they may
well offer guidance for society as a whole.
At the end of the film,
Misake is seen driving Yusuke’s red Saab. We don’t see him but clearly his
influence persists as we see her driving happily on the road of life, dealing
with whatever comes her way, her scars from the past much diminished and she is
living for the present.
This is a beautifully
observed, if long and leisurely-paced, study of the human condition, our desire
or need of purpose and fulfilment and the roles we can play in one another’s
lives, offering understanding, comfort and love, but also inflicting pain, responsibility
and guilt.
I found the film intense
and laboured at times, yet it was engaging and worthwhile. For me, it lacked
pace and a certain lightness of touch that might have enlivened proceedings
rather than pursue more or less a single register throughout, and a different
balance might have lent even greater impact to the many scenes of pathos and
poignancy, but I certainly found it stimulating and thought-provoking.
My thanks for taking the
time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.
Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)
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