Directed by Hirokazu Kore-eda
Written by Yoshiie Goda (manga) and Hirokazu Kore-eda (screenplay)
Starring Bae Doona, Arata Iura, and Itsuji Itao
Unrated
Runtime: 116 minutes
In Cinemas and VOD on Feb 4

by Clayton Hayes, Staff Writer

Whether or not you’ll enjoy Hirokazu Kore-eda’s Air Doll should become evident about 15 or 20 minutes in. After a rather frank introduction to Hideo (Itao) and his inflatable sex doll (the film’s titular air doll), Nozomi (Doona), consciousness begins to stir within Nozomi as Hideo leaves for work. Nozomi, now appearing more or less human aside from some seams on her skin and an inflation nozzle instead of a navel, dresses and leaves Hideo’s apartment. The next ten minutes are almost entirely without dialogue as the camera follows Nozomi wandering the surrounding streets in their run-down Tokyo neighborhood. It was really a lovely sequence and set the perfect tone for the film that followed: a plot-light meditation on the withering of human life when lonely and isolated, even when surrounded by a sea of humanity.

Here we are in 2022, over a decade after the film’s original release in Japan, and its emotional impact is stronger than ever. It might hit a little too hard, in fact, if you’ve been feeling COVID isolation especially keenly. Others might find solace or catharsis in watching Nozomi as she navigates a completely unfamiliar world and struggles with finding (and keeping) connections with the people she finds there. The film’s unhurried pace invites audiences to sit with the images on the screen, to almost soak in what’s being shown. Mark Lee Ping-Bing’s subtly kinetic cinematography underscores Nozomi’s wide-eyed wonder as it lingers on the everyday, imbuing it all with a delicate sense of beauty.

Speaking of, Doona’s performance as Nozomi deserves special mention for a few reasons. Portraying an air doll that has come to life in a convincing way that is not campy or silly seems like an incredible challenge, but Doona is able to pull it off quite effectively. What’s more, she tracks the physical and emotional changes as her character eases into humanity across a jumbled shooting schedule.

I am still trying to figure out exaclty how sex fits into the statement being made by the film. That Nozomi was (and still is) an air doll is not something the audience is allowed to forget. Multiple times, in voice over, she says, “I am an air doll. A substitute for handling sexual desire.” What felt to me like the emotional crux of the film, a poem by Yoshino Hiroshi (also delivered by Nozomi in voice over), draws a direct comparison between reproduction in plants and human connection. Sex as a narrative device can be hard for me to parse (thanks in part to my catholic upbringing), and it’s continuing to elude me here.

There is one narrative aspect to sex in Air Doll that I do have some reservations about. Immediately after Nozomi’s first day of consciousness, the sequence described above, the film cuts to a “date” between Nozomi and Hideo. It’s a jarring and, for me, disturbing juxtaposition. The audience had only seen Hideo’s affections directed towards an actual air doll in the film’s opening scenes. However, from about minute 5 onward, Nozomi is portrayed by an actual human being. The time jump implied by the cut implies that, at least as far as Hideo is concerned, nothing has changed. The film does not shy away from confronting the implication being made; far from it. But neither does it seem interested in any sort of resolution for a pretty thorny moral issue.

Not that I’m trying to argue against seeing Air Doll. Fans of Kore-eda’s excellent 2018 film, Shoplifters, will find some familiar thematic elements, but never to the point of feeling that one is a rehash of the other. Despite the odd premise, it’s a beautiful, poignant film that isn’t afraid of wading into deep water and is well worth your time.