THIS REVIEW IS PART OF BLITZ’S CONTINUED COVERAGE OF THE 71ST SYDNEY FILM FESTIVAL, 5-16 JUNE. READ THE REST OF OUR REVIEWS HERE.  

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When it comes to any form of media, I usually find myself gravitating towards those that have even the slightest to do with the domesticities of an Asian family. If just a morsel of on-screen representation means depression and a touch of family dysfunction, I’ll take it. So there was no doubt that I’d be sat for Cottontail this year’s Film Festival.  

Cottontail grieves with Kenzaburo (Lily Franky) as he navigates his days without his wife, Akiko (Tae Kimura). Akiko’s battle with dementia and her eventual death bring Kenzaburo and their son Toshi (Ryo Nishikido) together in an attempt to fulfil her last earthly wish - spreading her ashes on Lake Windermere in England; A far distance from their home in Tokyo. 

via Sydney Film Festival

Thematically, I found Cottontail to be synonymous with Everything Everywhere All At Once (2022) in its depictions of a strained parent-child relationship. Both films highlight a parent’s insistence on independence, stubbornly doing things their way regardless of the lack of rational thought. Much like Kenzaburo, who left Toshi and his family in London to travel to Lake Windermere alone without any sense of his destination’s direction. 

I found both films to be similar in the way they explore the differing displays of affection that exist in a parent and child’s relationship. In both stories, they reflect the child of the story yearning for any semblance of warmth from their parent, not realising that their parent’s actions of love were found in sacrifices and appearances of perfection rather than their simple presence. Something I surmise is intergenerationally deep-rooted in Asian culture. 

But though I found Everything Everywhere All At Once to be extraordinary in all its boisterousness, Cottontail was incredibly quiet and subtle, and I say this with appreciation and respect for both films’ different subject matters. 

This isn’t a call for films on family dysfunction - nor grief for that matter - to now and forever be universe-bending and dimension-defying since EEAAO’s release, but I simply found myself asking for more from Dickinson.  

The cinematography was beautiful and isolating, and also hopeful, but so so lonely. The long shots of Tokyo in the opening sequence rendered the city vast and abandoned as we met the companionless Kenzaburo. I was afraid of where we would have to leave him by the end of the film. But when we reached Cottontail’s conclusion, I felt nothing but relief in the fact that Kenzaburo wouldn’t be alone after all. The initial fear of having to leave our beloved old man behind when leaving the cinema dissipated amongst the hills in the beautiful Lake District with his family, attributed to the crew’s stellar work with colour and cinematography. 

I just wanted more from the film’s plot. Simplicity can be perfect, but with such emotional shots and framing (one of my favourite uses of close-up shots to date), I looked for a bit more in the story to match.  

Therefore story aside, I think the hero of the film lies in Patrick Dickinson’s lead Kenzaburo and his grief so reverently portrayed by Lily Franky. The way that Franky takes care of Kenzaburo and the character’s grief truly shines. It is moving and intentional, and I think it helped me understand just how Kenzaburo would do anything to ensure Akiko is taken care of, which we see during the film’s gut-wrenching flashbacks. 

via Sydney Film Festival

Even after her death, Kenzaburo ensures Akiko’s spirit is treated the same despite his own feeble state. In the way that he poured a glass of beer for her even when she was no longer beside him. In the way that he carefully yet steadily held the chopsticks in the crematorium. In the way he frantically washed off Akiko’s urn in a fancy restaurant, not caring less about the dirt splatters on the sink so long as the thing that held her was in perfect shape. 

For all Kenzaburo’s mishaps and inconveniences on his journey, Lily Franky so easily justifies these in his portrayal of what pure devotion and care look like throughout life and past death. And what more, how we may be able to share some of this love with the people who are still with us. 

Though I can’t say that this film was my favourite, it was nevertheless touching and I imagine it to be incredibly healing for many people watching. 

And to Lily Franky, you have found a fan in me. I’m now on my way to watch Shoplifters (2018). 

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Ysabel Maranan is a fifth-year student studying a dual degree in International Studies and Media (Screen & Sound Production). As someone who spends her time on Spotify as if it’s her day job, she’s probably listening to that song you just posted on your Instagram story. 

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