The amazing side of Japanese literature and art

I have recently started a Japanese TV series since I have been happily bound to home to work (or not work) due to the COVID-19 situation in Europe. It was on the list of feel-good-TV/movies to watch with some of my favorite movies so I thought I would give it a try.

Just finished the first episode and I realised what I loved about most of Japanese literature and art. They are just so damn natural. So unforced. And so real. Nobody needs to fall out to make the final ending more cheerful （see the movie Wood Job! - I know what you are thinking, but I swear it's not what you are thinking). And nobody has to die to make people cry their heart out, and even if they do, they have subtle ways of doing it that touches you in very very tiny details that make you impossible to feel betrayed by how much the director has been trying to manipulate your tears (see movie Farewell for Today, or Kyou no Hi wa Sayounara - If the vending machine part doesn't make you cry, who hurt you dear?). Sometimes there won't even feel like there is an ending at all (see The Old Capital, or Koto) And this show, of course, wouldn't be an exception, or I would be a person with absolutely no logic whatsoever and you should probably never ever look at this website ever. The show it called パンとスープとネコ日和 if you want to check it out - roughly translates into Bread, Soup and Cat Weather. I am not as good in Japanese as I'd love to be, so don't quote me on it (that's why I gave the Japanese title first…). But something I absolutely loved in the first episode, is a very very tiny and insignificant part of it and it absolutely moved me so much. Or maybe I'm just a bit too sensitive, you can be the judge. The first episode features this heroine trying to reopen a restaurant after resigning her editor job, followed by her mother's death. Obviously, not much wailing with death in this show, which I deeply appreciated. But the whole episode actually is decently slow and not much happened by side a snarky mean lady neighbour is always dropping all sorts of complaints at her. When the 50-minute episode finally comes to an end where she finds a waitress who really connected with her, and all seems to fall into place, the episode ends with a mom walking by the quiet street with a kid and a trolly. Much to my surprise, they did not make their way into this newly opened restaurant, which you might want to do, if you are a forcing director. Forcing the audience to see they are getting business. Forcing things to turn out great. Truth is life isn't always good in the end, and there is no end, and no such thing as good or bad. Things just are. They are what they are without significance, without a reason, without fairness or unfairness and there's nobody to argue with if you don't like the plot. And I think nobody understands that better than Japanese literature and art. To be very honest though, I think Wes Anderson's work can sometimes really resonated with this sublty. I still think about Mr Fox's fist in the air from time to time.

Obviously if you are my mum, you would call me in the middle of the night and shout at me for recommending her a movie with ‘no ending’.