Tokyo Sonata (2008) Review

In a July 2025 article for The New York Times, Carlos Aguilar stated that director Kiyoshi Kurosawa “is to psychological fright what David Cronenberg is to body horror.” Indeed, over the last 30 years, Kurosawa has become a master at weaving sinister, slow-creeping dread into the everyday- elevating the mundane into something almost imperceptibly menacing. However, he has not been constricted to the realm of the macabre. From dramatic comedies like ‘Licence to Live,’ to sci-fi and espionage flicks like ‘Before We Vanish’ and ‘Wife of a Spy,’ Kurosawa has shown himself to be a stylistic shapeshifter, crafting films that transcend the boundaries of genre.

This versatility finds one of its most poignant expressions in ‘Tokyo Sonata’, where Kurosawa turns his eye from the supernatural to the everyday disquiet of family life. It follows the Sasaki family after the father, Ryuhei, loses his job, hiding the truth from his wife, Megumi, and children, Kenji and Takashi. As each family member begins concealing their own desires and frustrations, the household’s fragile harmony unravels, exposing the subtle unease beneath ordinary life. Here, the spectre is not a ghost or a curse, but the erosion of equilibrium- both economic and emotional.

It is a powerful drama, anchored by believable characters whose struggles feel both intimate and universal. Ryuhei’s pride and secrecy, Megumi’s quiet yearning for freedom, Kenji’s defiance through music and Takashi’s impulsive search for purpose, all unfold with understated precision. Kurosawa’s dialogue is spare yet piercing, allowing silence and gesture to carry as much weight as words. In this restraint lies the film’s strength: the ordinary rhythms of family life become charged with tension, revealing how repression and concealment corrode trust.

Beyond its domestic focus, the film examines broader themes of economic precarity, generational conflict and the fragility of identity in modern Japan. The collapse of Ryuhei’s career mirrors a society grappling with instability, while Kenji’s piano lessons symbolize the possibility of self-expression amid constraint. It could be said that Kurosawa is suggesting that true horror lies not in supernatural forces but in the unravelling of stability, leaving individuals isolated even within the family unit.

Kurosawa’s craft amplifies these themes with quiet precision. Akiko Ashizawa’s cinematography favours static, wide frames that emphasize distance and alienation within the family home, turning ordinary interiors into landscapes of unease. Kôichi Takahashi’s editing is restrained, with long takes allowing silence to stretch into tension, making the inevitable eruptions of conflict therein feel all the more startling.

Further, Masayuki Iwakura’s sound design heightens the atmosphere by amplifying everyday noises- doors closing, footsteps, the hum of appliances and crinkling of crisp packets- while dialogue remains spare. Against this muted soundscape, a beautiful sequence of Kenji playing piano stands out as a moment of catharsis, where music becomes a fragile counterpoint to repression and collapse. Additionally, Claude Debussy's ‘Clair de Lune’ has rarely been used to such effect.

All in the cast deliver powerhouse performances. Teruyuki Kagawa subtly displays Ryuhei’s frustration and emotional turmoil, while Kyōko Koizumi’s Megumi is a heart-rending masterclass in moderation. As their son Kenji- and in his big-screen debut- Kai Inowaki delivers a remarkably nuanced performance, while supporting players Haruka Igawa, Kanji Tsuda and the great Koji Yakusho contribute brilliantly to the ensemble.

Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s ‘Tokyo Sonata’ is a quietly devastating work. By stripping away the supernatural and focusing instead on the fractures within an ordinary household, he reveals that the most unsettling spectres are those born of everyday pressures- economic uncertainty, emotional repression and the slow erosion of trust. With its composed craft, nuanced performances and thematic resonance, the film demonstrates Kurosawa’s ability to transcend genre and speak to universal human anxieties. In short, ‘Tokyo Sonata’ hits all the right notes.