[Slamdance Review] - “Your world doesn’t exist”: A Review of Tsugumi
A personal standout in Slamdance 2022’s Narrative Shorts category, Shiyu Hu’s Tsugumi (2020) is the most visually stunning short I’ve ever seen. Starring Kyoko Okazaki, Terumi Shimazu, and Hidetoshi Imura, the short film—including credits—runs only about 21 minutes long and encapsulates a story of two lifetimes.
Reminiscent of the heartbreaking children’s book Love You Forever by Robert Munsch, Tsugumi paints a harrowing portrait of impending death and loss. Following the story of aging mother Yuriko and adult daughter Tsugumi, the film explores life’s natural ebbs and flows through a series of honest and vivid snapshots. Beginning with a story regaled from mother to daughter, Yuriko fondly recalls her childhood songbird Tsugumi, who served as the inspiration for her beloved daughter’s name. Even despite their relationship’s eventual strain, which is seen off and on throughout the rest of the film, the pair’s bond is instantly established as loving and kind and maintains that quality palpably until the credits roll. Only moments in, we find out that due to an undisclosed (presumably mental) illness befallen on Yuriko, her husband and Tsugumi’s father left the picture early on. Leaving the two to care for each other completely on their own, Yuriko’s husband tells her, “Your world doesn’t exist” and then cruelly shakes away from the woman’s grasp. This traumatic moment then sets off the chain of painful events that comprise the rest of this emotional film, illuminating harsh depictions of hardship interspersed between frames of stark beauty and light.
A stunning art film through and through, there is immense attention drawn to Tsugumi’s sound design and vibrant color palette. Evoking imagery of water and blood, there is a powerful emphasis on life’s cyclical quality, creating a heart-rending experience for most anyone who’s loved and lost. Because of its brief run-time, the film moves quickly yet feels perfectly paced and gradual all the same. The soundtrack is subtle but beautiful, highlighting ambient noises amidst a wistfully gentle score. Additionally, the utilization of predominantly vertical shots makes Tsugumi surreal, albeit truthful, balancing its artfulness well with its raw depictions of heartache.
As a writer and film reviewer, I wholeheartedly strive for integrity in everything I put out. Having said that, with the exception of needlessly cruel or bigoted media, I love nearly every film I see. I love film. Period. Still, I am honest in my critiques, yet when it comes to Tsugumi; I have to admit that I am struggling to see anything that could be improved upon. The film is thoughtful, deep, and engaging, poetic, gorgeous, and stirring. As someone who struggles to watch tear-jerking cinema, Tsugumi is unique in its ability to depict distressing scenarios while remaining (mostly) comfortable to consume. I love the connection shown between the two women and I love the attention brought to their relationship’s flaws. I also love how the film seems a celebration of life while simultaneously serving as a tribute to its fleeting existence. Perhaps my favorite element of the film, though, is how human it feels. It portrays life as it is: a soul-crushing work of art.
