「私がいないところで、私のことを思い出してほしかっただけ」
[I just wanted you to hear it, and think of me when I wasn’t there.]
Konishi’s (Riku Hagiwara) days are monotonous, far removed from the university life he’d imagined. He spends his time bantering about trivial matters with Yamane (Kodai Kurosaki), his only friend on campus, and Sacchan (Aoi Itô), a fellow student who works part-time at a public bathhouse.
One day, after class, his gaze is drawn to the dignified presence of Sakurada (Yumi Kawai), her hair in a bun. He decides to speak to her, and through a series of surprising coincidences, they quickly become close. Just as he finally begins to embrace the world around him, a life-altering event strikes them both, changing their destinies.
With She Taught Me Serendipity (今日の空が一番好き、とまだ言えない僕は), Akiko Ohku delivers a film that blends romantic comedy and tragic drama, using the futility of life and its chance encounters as its narrative thread.
While several themes in She Taught Me Serendipity are common in Hollywood cinema, the director’s treatment grounds the film deeply in Japanese culture. At the heart of the narrative is solitude, a loneliness caused by difficulties in societal living, blending into the culture, and a certain shyness.
It’s no secret, and it’s a recurring theme in Japanese cinema, that Japanese people often feel lonely. Societal codes don’t help, and the director illustrates this well in her debut film. In a scene of great beauty and profound sadness, she tackles the idea of reading between the lines. Apologizing repeatedly for being so direct, a character explains why it’s important to state things directly rather than waiting for others to understand. The way the scene is filmed is particularly interesting. While we’re accustomed to close-ups to emphasize emotion, the director chooses to maintain a wide shot almost throughout, creating a strong sense of distance without entirely removing the emotion.
Fundamentally, a kind of love triangle develops in this film. But you never expect the film to lead where it does. Because these three lonely souls wander, each in their own way, in a world that doesn’t understand them. As a viewer, you eventually don’t quite know where you want it all to go. Because there are no good guys or bad guys here. Just true humans.
She Taught Me Serendipity is a genre blend. While it starts as a simple romantic comedy, it gradually, almost imperceptibly, shifts into drama.
After the encounters and romance, the story completely breaks, leaving the viewer uncertain for long minutes. You wonder if you missed something. If you misunderstood something. Why isn’t it working anymore? Why is he saying that? And her, why is she doing that? What about the other girl?
While this abrupt change of course bothered me during the screening, I now realize it perfectly represents the feeling that grows in someone who is suddenly abandoned by love, without explanation. The direction is stunning, and the actors are great. The viewer finds themselves shedding a few tears, destabilized by the lack of information needed to convey the real feeling experienced when the person you love suddenly ceases all communication.
This feature film isn’t perfect, but it perfectly reflects reality, holding up a mirror to it. A small note for Westerners: although the way love develops in Japan isn’t the same as here, you can easily identify with the characters and the situation. Who has never felt alone? Who has never felt abandoned?
In addition to the three main characters, there are several important and well-chosen minor roles. The boss who sees Sacchan as the daughter he never had, the somewhat foolish friend who turns out to be more complex than he seems, and the large number of people circulating here and there without considering the main characters, making the impression of isolation even stronger—they all fulfill their roles wonderfully.
The result is a good film that will awaken the melancholy within you.
She Taught Me Serendipity will be screened at the Toronto Japanese Film Festival on June 14, 2025.
Trailer
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