by Hudson Moura
Akashi, acted, written, and directed by Mayumi Yoshida, is a film built around memory, mourning, and the unresolved traces of first love, but its emotional and formal ambitions are only partially realized. The film opens with the image of Kana’s grandfather in colour, an intriguing visual gesture that immediately establishes him as a figure of mystery and suggests that the story will gradually uncover something essential about his past, particularly in relation to love and memory. This opening is promising, since it creates a contrast that gives the grandfather’s story a distinct aura from the outset.
Most of the film unfolds in black and white, almost sepia in tone, as Kana returns to Japan from Vancouver after ten years to attend her grandmother’s funeral. The grandmother (Hana Kino) appears to have been a central figure in Kana’s life, someone close to her emotionally and perhaps creatively, serving as a source of inspiration. Back in Japan, Kana is also confronted with traces of her own past, especially the lingering feelings she seems to still carry for her first boyfriend, Hiro (Ryo Tajima). In this sense, the film attempts to braid together two temporal and emotional lines: the memory of the grandparents’ past and the possibility of Kana’s own unfinished romantic history.
One of the film’s strengths lies in its direction. Mayumi Yoshida shows care in the construction of atmosphere and in the visual contrast between temporalities, especially through the opening use of colour and the dominant monochromatic palette that shapes the rest of the film. There is a clear sensibility in the staging, and the film often conveys a delicate mood of reflection, nostalgia, and loss. Even when the narrative does not fully cohere, the direction reveals an evident seriousness of purpose and a desire to build an emotionally textured world.
The Japanese actors also bring strong qualities to the film. Their performances often feel grounded, nuanced, and emotionally credible, helping give weight to scenes of mourning, family tension, and remembered affection. In many moments, they provide the film with a degree of authenticity and sensitivity that strengthens its dramatic atmosphere.
The problem is that the film relies too heavily on dialogue. Much of it is spoken at length, and so insistently that the image is often not allowed to breathe. Rather than trusting silence, gesture, or visual composition to carry emotional meaning, the film frequently explains itself through conversation. This makes the narrative feel dense in a way that is not always productive, limiting the poetic or reflective potential that the black-and-white cinematography seems to be reaching for. The visual design suggests introspection and melancholy, but the constant dialogue often works against that atmosphere.
A further difficulty lies in the casting and performance of Mayumi Yoshida as Kana. The character is supposed to have lived in Canada for only ten years, yet her English accent sounds so perfect that it creates a sense of disconnection from the role’s background, making her seem closer to a second-generation immigrant than someone who emigrated later in life. More broadly, Yoshida appears somewhat miscast in relation to the other characters in Japan. She feels markedly different from those around her in a way that the film does not fully integrate into its dramatic logic. As a result, some scenes become awkward, and the emotional connections between Kana and the other characters do not always feel believable.
This affects the film at its core, because Akashi depends heavily on the viewer accepting the intimacy of these relationships: familial, romantic, and intergenerational. When that sense of connection does not fully come through, the mystery surrounding the grandfather’s past and Kana’s own emotional return loses some of its force. What should feel delicate and moving instead becomes uneven, with moments of sincerity undermined by an awkward lack of grounding.
Akashi is an imperfect but sincere and thoughtfully directed film. Its exploration of mourning, family memory, and first love contains genuine emotional weight, while its visual treatment of time through colour and monochrome gives the story a distinctive texture. The direction shows sensitivity, and the Japanese cast brings depth, restraint, and authenticity to the film’s most affecting moments. Although the screenplay leans too heavily on dialogue and Mayumi Yoshida’s casting as Kana creates some distance within the film’s emotional world, Akashi still emerges as a work of recognizable delicacy and earnestness. It may not fully achieve the emotional coherence it seeks, but it remains a film with grace, atmosphere, and clear artistic intention.
The film was part of the 2026 Canadian Film Fest in Toronto.
Rating: 3/5