 "Photo: Courtesy Photo")
 "Photo: Courtesy Photo")
In 1988, four children were abandoned by their mother in a Tokyo apartment. They were alone there for six months and were rescued only after one of the children, weakened by malnutrition, died in an accident. The incident, which became known as the "Affair of the Four Abandoned Children of Nishi-Sugamo," outraged citizens of Japan and the world and inspired director Kore-eda Hirokazu to bring their story to the silver screen.
The resulting film, Nobody Knows, creates a fictional account of the children of Nishi-Sugamo. The four children in the film - 12-year-old Akira (Yuya Yagira, who won the award for Best Actor at the 2004 Cannes Film Festival), 10-year-old Kyoko (Ayu Kitaura), 7-year-old Shigeru (Hiei Kimura) and 5-year-old Yuki (Momoko Shimizu) - have different fathers and have never been to school. And - as in the true account - the children are abandoned by their mother, Keiko, who is portrayed as well-meaning but selfish and childlike by Japanese columnist and singer You.
The film opens with Keiko and Akira moving into a new apartment. Because of possible objections to her having four children in such a small space, Keiko allows only Akira to go outdoors. The other three children are brought in secret. The youngest two emerged from suitcases, and within moments, it is clear this routine is nothing new to the children. The family rules play out like pages from The Diary of Anne Frank - no talking loudly, no going outside, no calling attention to oneself under any circumstances. It must be as if they do not even exist.
Despite the circumstances, the children are fairly happy. Under Akira's guide, they carry on cooking, cleaning and caring for themselves, until one day when Akira discovers a bit of money and a note from his mother saying that she has left and he is now officially in charge of the family.
Surprisingly, he has little reac-
tion to the news, and the children attempt to maintain order. At no point do they see their newfound "freedom" as a game - the children do not celebrate by buying candy and going through their mother's things. Rather, they continue as if nothing has happened and carry on their daily chores as if life had been more generous and such responsibilities were mere additions to more normal childhood routines of school and neighborhood friendships.
As it becomes more evident that their mother is not coming back, however, the delicate normalcy they created falls into chaos. The apartment turns to squalor and the children turn listless and angry. They quickly become impatient and feel trapped by the need to survive on their own.
Every day becomes a test - money runs out and food becomes scarce. In one horrifying scene, Akira finds little Shigeru chewing on paper just to ease his hunger. And, as the pressure on him increases, the desperate need for contact and friendship tears Akira from his family. Even after the children finally escape their home and befriend other characters, however, nobody is willing to help in any real way and little is done to re-direct their fates.
Solitude continually fills their lives and they spend each day doing nothing and feeling too dejected to dream and to aware of the risks of separation to break away. For the first time, viewers are able to sense the reality of abandonment.
It is here the film achieves its greatest accomplishment. Kore-eda's documentary filmmaking techniques distance himself from the action, but pull the audience into the room with the children. He makes the viewers see the little things the children see and forces them to stare together out of the windows, making animals from the shadows on the wall and drowning in anxious silence. You, like them, feel trapped in this torturous waiting game for something - anything - to happen.
And for that very reason, closeness to the characters is also its greatest limitation. The film's length hovers around three hours, and to put it simply, it is becomes very trying to watch. The piece was filmed chronologically during the course of a year and the enormity of what that means is directly translated onto film, both through the children's intimacy, growth and exhaustion.
However, it is never boring, and although it is incredibly dark in one sense, Kore-eda punctuates the darkness with moments of light - a child's laugh, another's discovery of beautiful flowers growing through cracks in cement - which make the film the furthest thing from dull. Rather, it is excruciatingly painful, frustrating and exhausting. It is so horrifyingly genuine that it may be difficult for some to fully grasp or appreciate, but for those who do, it is invaluable.
Nobody Knows opens Friday at Ken Cinema and plays for one week only. For more information, call (619) 819-0236.
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