Wisarut Himmarat and Davika Hoorne in A Useful Ghost (2025)

Tony Thomas in An Artist of the Floating World (2019)

Gô Ayano, Takumi Kitamura, and Yûta Hayashi in Orokamono no Mibun (2025)

Suzu Hirose in A Pale View of Hills (2025)

Fumi Nikaidô and Suzu Hirose in A Pale View of Hills (2025)

Fumi Nikaidô, Yoh Yoshida, and Suzu Hirose in A Pale View of Hills (2025)

Suzu Hirose

Fumi Nikaidô

Yoh Yoshida

Kazuo Ishiguro

Kei Ishikawa

Dual timelines explore a Japanese widow&apos;s memories spanning post-war Nagasaki in 1950s and England during 1980s Cold War era, unraveling secrets that intertwine her past and present experiences across borders.

Tôi yama-nami no hikari

Read the book first!

Kazuo Ishiguro&apos;s novels are hard to adapt. The misleading minimalism, the quiet subtlety, the unreliable narrator, the deceptively simple plots that are heavy with hidden, deeper meaning-it takes an impressive amount of skill to translate that to the big screen.

&quot;A Pale View of Hills&quot; was Ishiguro&apos;s first novel. He wrote it when he was only 27. He has moved from Japan to England and was struggling with this huge change in his life. He felt he lost himself and didn&apos;t know who he was-he was neither English nor Japanese. And so, he wanted to come to terms with his Japanese background and his conflicting and complex feelings towards his homeland. The novel was an expression of this journey.

** Some minor spoilers below (book and movie) **

The book, one of my personal favorites, has this constant feeling of something sinister lurking in the shadows and a big danger that looms over the hills. It is mysterious, eerie, and tenebrous. However, the big event that is foreshadowed and promised never comes. The novel ends with a seemingly simple, anticlimactic scene that delivers nothing short of confusion-but boy, what a feeling that is! You know that something is missing, you are absolutely certain that you have missed something crucial, and it is right there, at the tip of your fingers. You go back, and you start recalling all those weird things that happened and were never explained, all those strange, inexplicable lines from the characters. And slowly, everything starts making sense. You sort all the pieces of the puzzle together and realize the author has left you clues all over the place, but has hidden them in plain sight. You start to relive the whole story only once you have finished it. And that&apos;s the beauty of it. It is enigmatic and subtle; some parts are deliberately left ambiguous so that you can theorize and have your own version and explanation, but it doesn&apos;t leave you completely clueless.

If you have read so far, you probably already know what I didn&apos;t like in the movie. I enjoyed picking the clues along the way-the subtle parallels between several scenes and character backgrounds, the cat stickers on the door of Keiko&apos;s room, the way some scenes were shot. However, once the time comes, the movie hits you over the head and clearly reveals the twist. No subtlety, no room for imagination, no room left for thought. You just have it clear as day. And that kills the whole idea of the book; it kills the psychological aspect of Etsuko&apos;s internal struggle. The narrator is no longer unreliable or uncertain; she loses much of her depth and complexity, and she even receives closure that she was never allowed in the book (it was only hinted at).

The biggest crime against the novel is that the movie reduces Etsuko to a mere narrator, interviewed by her daughter, Niki. Therefore, when it&apos;s revealed that she lied, it destroys the idea that it&apos;s not simply a literal lie but something much deeper-a lie Etsuko tells herself, a false memory her mind creates to keep her sane, a subconscious self-deception meant to protect her from the biggest horror in her life-the truth.

The ending is hands down the worst part of the movie. Even the whole &quot;you have to change, we all have to change&quot; thing misses the point of the book. The movie uses it to give the story a completely different meaning. It is now about whether having children is necessary, if it&apos;s a good thing, and if patriarchy isn&apos;t the reason why women are always oppressed and forced to give birth. Pretty shallow and disappointing, although it is nicely tied to the larger theme of Japan&apos;s struggle with its past.

On the other hand, I must acknowledge the cinematography. The movie is beautifully shot, and some scenes are awe-inspiring. The acting is superb, and the music blends perfectly the Japanese subtlety and tranquility with those memorable moments of threatening, ominous notes (which were the perfect way to translate the looming danger that spreads across the pages of the book on the screen).

&quot;A Pale View of Hills&quot; confirms the rule that the book is always better than the movie. And I am so happy that I read the book before watching it. If you want to see the movie, trust me-read the book first, give yourself 6+ months to forget at least some of it, and then watch the movie with a fresh mind. Maybe then you will have a bit higher opinion of it.

Kazuo Ishiguro's novels are hard to adapt. The misleading minimalism, the quiet subtlety, the unreliable narrator, the deceptively simple plots that are heavy with hidden, deeper meaning-it takes an impressive amount of skill to translate that to the big screen.

"A Pale View of Hills" was Ishiguro's first novel. He wrote it when he was only 27. He has moved from Japan to England and was struggling with this huge change in his life. He felt he lost himself and didn't know who he was-he was neither English nor Japanese. And so, he wanted to come to terms with his Japanese background and his conflicting and complex feelings towards his homeland. The novel was an expression of this journey.

** Some minor spoilers below (book and movie) **

The book, one of my personal favorites, has this constant feeling of something sinister lurking in the shadows and a big danger that looms over the hills. It is mysterious, eerie, and tenebrous. However, the big event that is foreshadowed and promised never comes. The novel ends with a seemingly simple, anticlimactic scene that delivers nothing short of confusion-but boy, what a feeling that is! You know that something is missing, you are absolutely certain that you have missed something crucial, and it is right there, at the tip of your fingers. You go back, and you start recalling all those weird things that happened and were never explained, all those strange, inexplicable lines from the characters. And slowly, everything starts making sense. You sort all the pieces of the puzzle together and realize the author has left you clues all over the place, but has hidden them in plain sight. You start to relive the whole story only once you have finished it. And that's the beauty of it. It is enigmatic and subtle; some parts are deliberately left ambiguous so that you can theorize and have your own version and explanation, but it doesn't leave you completely clueless.

If you have read so far, you probably already know what I didn't like in the movie. I enjoyed picking the clues along the way-the subtle parallels between several scenes and character backgrounds, the cat stickers on the door of Keiko's room, the way some scenes were shot. However, once the time comes, the movie hits you over the head and clearly reveals the twist. No subtlety, no room for imagination, no room left for thought. You just have it clear as day. And that kills the whole idea of the book; it kills the psychological aspect of Etsuko's internal struggle. The narrator is no longer unreliable or uncertain; she loses much of her depth and complexity, and she even receives closure that she was never allowed in the book (it was only hinted at).

The biggest crime against the novel is that the movie reduces Etsuko to a mere narrator, interviewed by her daughter, Niki. Therefore, when it's revealed that she lied, it destroys the idea that it's not simply a literal lie but something much deeper-a lie Etsuko tells herself, a false memory her mind creates to keep her sane, a subconscious self-deception meant to protect her from the biggest horror in her life-the truth.

The ending is hands down the worst part of the movie. Even the whole "you have to change, we all have to change" thing misses the point of the book. The movie uses it to give the story a completely different meaning. It is now about whether having children is necessary, if it's a good thing, and if patriarchy isn't the reason why women are always oppressed and forced to give birth. Pretty shallow and disappointing, although it is nicely tied to the larger theme of Japan's struggle with its past.

On the other hand, I must acknowledge the cinematography. The movie is beautifully shot, and some scenes are awe-inspiring. The acting is superb, and the music blends perfectly the Japanese subtlety and tranquility with those memorable moments of threatening, ominous notes (which were the perfect way to translate the looming danger that spreads across the pages of the book on the screen).

"A Pale View of Hills" confirms the rule that the book is always better than the movie. And I am so happy that I read the book before watching it. If you want to see the movie, trust me-read the book first, give yourself 6+ months to forget at least some of it, and then watch the movie with a fresh mind. Maybe then you will have a bit higher opinion of it.

Dual timelines explore a Japanese widow's memories spanning post-war Nagasaki in 1950s and England during 1980s Cold War era, unraveling secrets that intertwine her past and present experiences across borders.

bappamtv

Tôi yama-nami no hikari

🎭 Top Cast

💰 Box Office

🎬 Technical Specs

🏷️ Keywords

🎯 Categories

⭐ Featured Review

🎬 More Like This

📖 Synopsis