‘A Pale View of Hills’ Review: The Supple Ambiguities of Kazuo Ishiguro’s Novel Stiffen and Seize Up in an Unsatisfying Adaptation

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Kazuo Ishiguro’s first novel, “A Pale View of Hills,” published in 1982, delicately explores lives that straddle multiple identities, both national and philosophical. The narrative, which unfolds like a nesting doll, features two Japanese women living strikingly similar lives in post-war Nagasaki, as recounted by their mixed-race daughter three decades later. This story is filled with intentional, subtly disconcerting discrepancies that reflect the struggles and detachment of immigrants. Intricate literary devices are used in this novel, but Kei Ishikawa’s adaptation, while ambitious, lacks the grace and eerie, melancholic atmosphere that permeates Ishiguro’s work, often missing its profound impact.

This bilingual Japanese-British production boasts an appealing and accessible presentation, targeting a wide range of art house audiences. With Kazuo Ishiguro, the Nobel laureate serving as an executive producer, it’s expected to receive a broader distribution than any of Ishikawa’s previous works. However, viewers new to the novel might struggle with important plot developments in this dual-timeline movie, which hovers between being a ghost story and a complex, ambiguous memory piece. Even those familiar with the material may question some of Ishikawa’s narrative decisions. On a more practical note, the film has its ups and downs, as several subplots seem to appear and disappear haphazardly, and the central performances vary in quality.

In Ishiguro’s novel, the narrative shifts between two time periods, and it is Etsuko, a character who links these timelines, who serves as the main protagonist. Initially, we meet her in 1952 Nagasaki as a shy, obedient housewife, pregnant with her first child (portrayed by Suzu Hirose from “Our Little Sister”). Thirty years later, she is depicted as a solitary widow (Yoh Yoshida) planning to leave a British home counties residence filled with poignant memories. Throughout these decades, Etsuko experiences a second marriage, another pregnancy, a significant relocation, and multiple losses. However, we gain insights into Etsuko’s emotional world indirectly since her story is told through the perspective of her daughter Niki (Camilla Aiko), who was raised entirely in Britain and aspires to be a journalist.

In 1982, Niki went to visit her mom, planning to write a personal family history. However, she found it challenging to reconcile her western lifestyle with her mother’s Japanese background, as the latter was reluctant to discuss their heritage. Etsuko’s reserve stemmed from sorrow; they both were grappling with the aftermath of Keiko’s suicide, Etsuko’s older daughter who struggled to adapt culturally and mentally to life in her new country following her emigration with her mother and stepfather from Japan.

In this movie, Keiko isn’t physically present on screen, but there is a character who could symbolically represent Keiko during the 1950s-set part of the film. This young character is Etsuko, who feels isolated and neglected by her busy husband Jiro. Etsuko develops a friendship with Sachiko, a woman who is somewhat ostracized due to her rejection of traditional Japanese societal norms and the visible scars from the radiation exposure she and her daughter Mariko experienced after the Nagasaki bombing. The stigma surrounding this experience causes Etsuko to lie to Jiro about being in Nagasaki at that time. Sachiko, however, is preparing to leave, as she has found an American soldier who is willing to help her and Mariko move back to the United States.

As Etsuko develops a friendship with the other woman, she starts to question whether her life of traditional housework is truly her destiny. Although we don’t get insights into her initial experiences as a mother or the shift between her two marriages, the parallels between these hidden, impending life events and Sachiko’s circumstances become increasingly obvious – even as the women start to look alike in their attire and demeanor.

In simpler terms, is Sachiko just a role model for Etsuko, a dreamlike image of what her future or past might look like, or perhaps a distant mirror of both? Piotr Niemyjski’s vivid portrayal of mid-century Nagasaki, which can appear as a peaceful postcard scene with soft pastel colors, or be intensely saturated with sunset tones, suggests some degree of artistic exaggeration. However, the storytelling doesn’t provide a clear and satisfying resolution to the ambiguities, which could have been more subtly suggested in writing. The ending comes off as overdramatic and surprising, like a sudden pull on a rug.

In the familiar surroundings of England, a scene unfolds against a backdrop of muted colors and vibrant red maple leaves adorning Etsuko’s well-kept Japanese garden. Despite the straightforward narrative, the dialogue feels stiff and lackluster. The story fails to ignite curiosity about Niki’s professional aspirations and love entanglements, and her recurring conversations with her mother continuously fall short of reaching a climactic moment of shared understanding – a poignant standoff, indeed, but challenging to build a film around. The plot offers more intrigue regarding the past and the subtle portrayals of Hirose and Nikaido as two women living intertwined lives, yet always out of reach. Remarkably, “A Pale View of Hills” manages to steer clear of sentimentality, instead offering a biting empathy for the unresolved identities of immigrants, unsettled regardless of time or place.

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2025-05-21 09:16