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Death seems to be an omniscient spectre and perennial fascination for promising filmmaker Chie Hayakawa. In her debut Plan 75<\/em>, Japan\u2019s elderly are encouraged to sign up for a euthanisation programme in an attempt to curb the country\u2019s aging population. Dying is sold and commodified, and is as normalised as groceries. Though not remotely as dystopian, there\u2019s a throughline to Hayakawa\u2019s follow-up in its relationship with mortality: that death has become so embedded in everyday life that it\u2019s almost unremarkable.<\/p>\n For 11-year-old Fuki (Yui Suzuki), she\u2019s lacking the road map for grief when time is running out for her terminally ill father (a little-seen but always devastating Lily Franky). Her mother (Hikari Ishida) is so occupied with her busy career during 1980s Japan\u2019s economic boom that she approaches funeral arrangements with the casualness of a business call. In one quietly devastating scene, Fuki\u2019s father turns on the light of a closet to see mourning clothes hanging by the doorway. It\u2019s as if his family is already so prepared for his imminent passing that he\u2019s already gone.<\/p>\n Crucially, Renoir<\/em> is framed through Fuki\u2019s perspective, carried by the revelatory newcomer Suzuki. Grief is a difficult feeling to process, especially for a young child, and without anyone to lean on, she retreats to her own fantasies. Dreams collide with reality so frequently that it\u2019s hard to parse what\u2019s real in Fuki\u2019s world \u2013 and Hayakawa\u2019s restrained mode of filmmaking doesn\u2019t differentiate between the two either. Inspired by a magician on TV, Fuki even begins testing her abilities in telepathy and hypnotism: perhaps magic can make sense of her situation.<\/p>\n Fuki\u2019s own feelings about death seem almost apathetic \u2013 her teacher alerts her mother that she\u2019s written an essay titled \u201cI Want to be an Orphan\u201d \u2013 but even then, she doesn\u2019t want to experience it alone. Left to her own devices almost everyday, Fuki searches for connection in ways that swing from innocent to dangerous. She looks to classmates, neighbours, and art from the titular French impressionist. Later, she strikes up a conversation with a groomer over a dating phone line. Hayakawa treats it all with such a delicate hand that it can verge on becoming too light a touch. The film\u2019s heavy ideas can feel like they\u2019re not being given the weight they need, always keeping the emotion at a distance.<\/p>\n Still, few films have depicted coming of age quite like this. The first promotional stills released in the lead-up to Cannes are a clever misdirect: one features Fuki smiling and dancing against a clear blue sky, and you\u2019d be forgiven for believing you\u2019re in for a sweet journey of self discovery. Renoir<\/em> does retain that summery bright colour palette, creating a startling contrast to the core darkness that permeates Fuki\u2019s isolation. It\u2019s a strange and oftentimes brutal portrait of a singularly curious child, left to wrestle with grief in her imagination when real life can\u2019t provide the answers.<\/p>\n To keep celebrating the craft of film, we have to rely on the support of our members. Join Club LWLies today and receive access to a host of benefits.<\/a><\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nGet more Little White Lies<\/h3>\n<\/p><\/div>\n