Haruki Murakami’s Magical Realism Is Faithfully Conveyed in Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman

There are already several wonderfully meditative, carefully realized adaptations of Haruki Murakami short stories – namely Korean director Lee Chang-dong’s Burning and Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s 2021 Oscar-winning Drive My Car – yet many of the Japanese literary icon’s most famous works have long been deemed unfit for cinematic translation. This likely has to do with Murakami’s penchant for employing elements of magical realism. The vivid, often fantastical scenes he creates through prose could easily come off as awkward, incongruous or simply unsatisfying on the screen, even within the seemingly limitless capabilities of modern VFX technology. By adapting several Murakami short stories with particularly surreal elements via animation in Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman, writer, director, animator and composer Pierre Földes is able to evocatively distill the mystical streak that permeates loosely connected plotlines, unfolding in the wake of the Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami that hit Tokyo in 2011.

Translucent specters seem to haunt the city after the tragedy – still commuting on the subway, showing up to work and running their daily errands – yet their presence isn’t discernible to those who survived. Kyoko (Shoshana Wilder) has essentially transformed into a living zombie, spending all of her time watching television coverage of the ecological disaster, noting that the death toll has now risen past 10,000. One day, she finally rises from the couch and abruptly leaves her husband Komura (Ryan Bommarito), an employee at a local bank. Her unexpected departure causes Komura to become listless, resulting in a week-long leave from work that sends him on a bizarre journey to the snowy island of Hokkaido to deliver a secretive package to a coworker’s sister. While Komura steps away from the office, his colleague from the accounting department, Katagiri (Marcelo Arroyo), becomes entangled in a quest with a giant talking frog (voiced by Földes himself) to save the city from a giant earthworm that threatens to set off another catastrophic earthquake. These three principal characters have their own personal storylines, never actually interacting with each other for any significant amount of time, yet their respective journeys are all inextricably intertwined.

The film incorporates six of Murakami’s short stories from three separate collections: The Elephant Vanishes, After the Quake and Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman. Even casual Murakami readers will recognize that The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, the (slightly altered) first chapter of which was originally published as The Elephant Vanishes, is a major component of this film. It’s not the sole focus, but it lushly conjures many specific details, from Komura’s missing kitty-turned-vanished wife to the inquisitive teenage neighbor who allows him to camp out in her backyard. Though the film only delves into the first chapter of the novel as it appears in Elephant, it’s difficult to imagine another film tackling The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and succeeding in capturing the hazily idyllic yet overwhelming foreboding atmosphere that Blind Willow does so effectively.

The triumph and allure of Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman is owed to the specific animation style that Földes utilizes, which is a visually intriguing combination of motion capture and 2D techniques. The screenplay was filmed with live-action actors as a reference point. Afterwards, animators replaced each performer’s head with a 3D model before taking the time to trace and animate their facial expressions and physical gestures. The benefit of essentially rotoscoping each actor is that a distinct, tangible realism is present in each character, while backgrounds, settings and natural phenomenon retain the enchanting charm of a hand-drawn approach.

Particularly because these Murakami stories straddle the line between mundane and metaphysical, the blending of filmic mediums is wonderfully redolent of the stories’ world. Even the addition of abstract, experimental animation sequences, which communicate hallucinatory or dreamlike character experiences, help the film maintain a completely original style that best serves the source material. It would also be remiss to not mention the lovely score that Földes composed and lightly incorporates into the film, favoring a subtle whimsy that never overpowers emotional beats and narrative revelations.

Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman is a refreshing take on a popular author’s oeuvre. It’s also ambitious in its own right, especially as it arrives on the heels of the aforementioned Murakami adaptations that have received substantial acclaim. By embarking on a truly unique creative path and embracing the facets of Murakami’s work that seemed unfilmable, Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman is an elegant tribute to a literary powerhouse whose signature brand of fantasy deserves to be embraced across artistic forms. Perhaps eventually audiences will be graced with a Murakami adaptation that addresses the recurring theme of Japanese imperialism (the cultural remnants of which continue to influence the country). Until then, a growing catalog of cinematic odes to the author’s short story works overwhelmingly prove to be entertaining and intelligent.

Director: Pierre Földes
Writer: Pierre Földes
Stars: Kwon Hae-hyo, Lee Hye-young, Park Mi-so, Song Seon-mi
Release Date: April 14, 2022

Natalia Keogan is Filmmaker Magazine’s web editor, and regularly contributes freelance film reviews here at Paste. Her writing has also appeared in Blood Knife Magazine, SlashFilm and Daily Grindhouse, among others. She lives in Queens with her large orange cat. Find her on Twitter @nataliakeogan