Cellist prettifies dead folk

It happened again: I was very upset with the Academy’s choice of foreign film. I had seen “Waltz with Bashir” and I knew that it must win. But this other movie, “Departures,” won instead. And I was like, “Whaaaat? Bullshit.” But I’d said the same thing in 2006 about “Pan’s Labyrinth” which fell to “The Lives of Others.” I was really pissy about it. Then I saw “The Lives of Others.” And then I kind of understood. Now I’ve seen “Departures.” And I kind of understand.

I don’t know that it was better than “Waltz with Bashir,” but it was close. They were different movies entirely. One’s animated, one’s not. One deals with bulk death, one deals with one death at a time. One twists your intestines and opens your eyes, one probes for your heart. (It found mine—well, at least my tear valves. Let’s just say I’m glad I went by myself this time.)

The film begins with Daigo, its doubtful narrator, driving on a snowy road, an old man in the passenger seat. He’s wondering whether he can actually do this new job: this job of ceremoniously preparing the dead for the casket. A cellist by trade, Daigo had been recently hired by an orchestra, only to have the orchestra dissolved shortly thereafter. So he’d moved back to his hometown, where his mother had left him a house, and started looking for work. Then he stumbled upon a newspaper ad that mentioned working with “departures”—and the rest is history.

At first he does it because it pays well, but the quiet beauty of the preparation ceremony quickly grows on him. No one comes out and says it, but there is an obvious parallel between the pre-casket ceremonies and his cello performances. Both are slow, precise, and elegant solemnities. No one will be left wondering, “why a musician?” The film does a wonderful job convincing us that someone who loves the cello could not help but love jazzing up cadavers. Ludicrous, I know, but you believe it.

Before the job starts to grow on him, however, is when the film has its best comedic moments: the infomercial for his business in which he plays the dead body; the suspiciously expedient hiring process; Daigo’s inability to deal with a decaying corpse; and the dodging of a cute, effervescent, sweetly inquisitive wife. This last item eventually plays a major role when she leaves him, calling him a liar and declaring him “unclean.” Well, honestly, what did you expect? Hiding the nature of your occupation from a spouse is rarely a successful enterprise (see “Mr. and Mrs. Smith”).

However, this is not a love story. The connubial drama is a plot device—an obstacle, in a way. One of many. The movie is about Daigo finding his calling in an unexpected place, after his musical ambitions were ostensibly lost in the laundry. He knows that his new job has a certain nobility. It’s just that no one else knows. Besides us. The other characters’ inability to see this is maddening.

Toward the end, I was afraid it was losing focus. There comes a hackneyed monologue from an old man about how he thinks death is “like a gateway,” which is initially an eye-roller—until you realize that this is exactly the speech this blue-collar old-man character would give. He didn’t say anything revelatory, but he meant every word. There’s something admirable in that. Much the same, “Departures” will stick, even if you’ve heard it all before.