Film rated R by the MPA.
This review contains spoilers.

Takeshi Kitano does not find a sense of relaxation in the beach.

For every bit of sunshine and children joyously building sandcastles, there’s always that sense of discomfort. The sand clinging to you, being self-conscious of your body, chills as soon as your toes enter the water.

Some people embrace it, but others retract. Some run back in the shade and stare at the water that they refuse to enter.

Sonatine is about those feelings. It’s about staring wistfully at what could’ve been and refusing to face the chance for betterment and change. It’s about the nihilism of following one path in life and finding yourself at the end of it with nothing to show but a deep melancholy.

The premise of a group of yakuza members absconding to a beach after an attack is not just inspired but deeply symbolic as we see these cold hearted, uncaring gangsters whittle away into a childlike version of themselves. They dance and goof around with aloof smiles, reminiscent of what we felt like when we would go to the beach as children.

We deeply associate summer with change, a middle point where all bets are off the table and we go and do whatever we want for our betterment. For these yakuza, it’s the opportunity to drop the façade, to be what their lifestyle has never afforded them.

Despite the grandiosity and bombastic action associated with the ‘gangster film,’ Sonatine is wonderfully restrained, subtle and intimate. The sweeping camera shots and gorgeous vistas are reserved only for the more playful moments where these characters let their guards down in contrast to the intentionally drab filming of the yakuza in their element.

It’s precisely this restraint that separates it from other films in this genre. There’s a disarming sensitivity at the heart of Sonatine which is what makes this film such a fascinating viewing experience. The traditional archetypes aren’t exactly subverted, but it’s this layering, often without dialogue that makes these gangsters strangely endearing to us as viewers.

Paradoxically, the film is also very comedic, clearly taking advantage of Kitano’s past as a comedian. The comedy in the film, however, has a goofy, oddball quality to it that serves as a way to connect with these otherwise unapproachable characters. One of the highlights being Uechi, the oldest member of the gang who is fixated on replicating a traditional Japanese dance that he tries to force younger gang members, Ryoji and Ken, to learn whilst on the beach.

All of this is punctuated by a bizarre yet spellbinding score by regular Studio Ghibli composer Joe Hisaishi who interlaces punchy synths with haunting shamisens to create this otherworldly environment. It was actually this soundtrack that served as the motivating factor for me to watch the film as I was entranced by how odd it was, considering the subject matter.

It’s not quite contemporary and not quite primal, it’s the limbo of summer where you want to forget who you were but fearful of what you will be. A notion which Kitano superimposes on each of the characters, namely Murakawa, the oldest member of the Nakamatsu gang, played by Kitano himself.

His boisterous, crude nature melts on the beach, showcasing a deep depression at having wasted his life inflicting violence on other people, as dreams of suicidal ideation plague him day and night.

Eventually, he finds solace in Miyuki, a rape victim whom Murakawa saves. This event showcases his softer side as the two begin a practically wordless, yet short lived romance that exposes a hidden desire within Murakawa to save people.

The great tragedy, of course, is that ultimately Murakawa is unable to save himself. By the end of the film, the weight of his life as a yakuza has consumed him and opts to leave Miyuki, understanding he is unable to be what she needs him to be and sparing him of the suffering this lifestyle will inevitably bring.

We are left with one final image. The beach, empty, not even an echo or a footprint of Murakawa, Miyuki or any of the other gang members.

Every time summer ends, we shed our skin, looking towards the future. But while the memories fade, the sentiments stay.

For Miyuki, she has a path forward from her trauma, offered to her by an old yakuza member who finally got the courage to do the right thing.