Happyend
A heartfelt ode to high school friendship, Neo Sora’s Happyend explores how bonds evolve—and dissolve—as adulthood looms. Set in authoritarian, near-future Tokyo, this coming-of-age drama is also comically original and ideologically intense. Even better, despite its familiar set-up, the film bursts with personality: surprisingly authentic, easy-to-fall-for characters whose personal and political awakenings make us laugh, grin, and ultimately choke up.
~~~~~~~~~
Kudos to writer/director Sora: largely unshackled by plot device, these Happyend kids are allowed room to breathe. Even more impressive, only a few of them have previous acting experience. A tight-knit group, they are at a zenith of uncertainty: the crucial crucible just before graduation. The BFFs include Kou (Yukito Hidaka) and Yuta (Hayato Kurihara), aspiring electronic musicians with a knack for disobedience—plus peacemaker Tomu (Arazi), who has yet to tell Yuta he’s moving to America. Also integral to their tale are class-clowns Ata-chan (Yûta Hayashi) and Ming (Shina Peng), who stress over future employment … when they’re not narrating out-of-earshot conversations.
The gang’s political future feels equally uncertain. School becomes a microcosm for their world and ours when, after an artful prank by Kou and Yuta, sleazy Principal Nagai (Shirô Sano) installs an Orwellian surveillance system to monitor and penalize students. No coincidence that this matches oppression on a national scale: in order to bolster power, the Japanese Prime Minister sounds the alarm on an imagined rise in immigrant crime.
Both forms of oppression put Kou and his college chances at risk. Despite a lifetime in Japan, he’s labeled “Non-Japanese” and forced to register as a foreigner due to his Zainichi Korean heritage. This everyday racism—plus his crush on student activist Fumi (Kilala Inori)—ignites multiple fuses. Focus is fractured, friendships are strained. And when Kou’s upheavals imperil Yuta’s DJ dreams, paths diverge.
It’s all relatable and none of it feels contrived. Full of youthful moxie, this troupe charges incessantly forward: camaraderie transcends plot; inside jokes feel more inside than scripted. When characters give each other a playful shove, fiction feels real. Elaborate pranks, protests, sit-ins, DIY DJ sets, irreverent songs and group hugs are all part of the mix. Even as they bristle at the world around them—and each other—their conflicted emotions are genuinely moving.
Authenticity is this film’s lifeblood. Think Yu-Gi-Oh’s “power of friendship,” if Yu-Gi-Oh were believable.
~~~~~~~~~
So does that mean there’s no happy ending?
It’s complicated—just like real life. Shot in Kobe, Japan, Sora’s Neo-Tokyo is rife with techno-fascist connections to Japanese imperialism: notably the 1923 massacre of ethnic Zainichi Koreans, spurred by resentment of immigrants and facilitated by the Great Kantō earthquake. Dark, man-made clouds are emblazoned with slogans fomenting xenophobia and climate anxiety; recurring earthquake alarms herald seismic shifts to come. These kids are about to collide with the future—and yet Happyend is never without hope.
Instead of wallowing in propaganda, this film is thoughtful. Framed as a look-back at time that hasn’t yet happened, it thrives on contrasts: the unavoidable clashes between insouciance and enlightenment, nostalgia and indignation. Old and new. While the narrative unfolds, Sora and his DP Bill Kirstein give careful attention to urban geometry, framing it in deep focus. They also leave room for lyrical beauty. During an argument, a swinging lamp casts pendulum shadows; during an earthquake, brooms tumble silently to the ground. At one point, a character is framed in a doorway, turning back ... while shimmering, light-flecked dance clubs and skylines promise a future that’s already here. Plus there’s a surprise nod to Truffaut’s 400 Blows—you’ll know it when you see it.
Even the score echoes the film’s contradictions: composed by Lia Ouyang Rusli, pirouetting piano and bittersweet synth intervals channel Joe Hisaishi. Both playful and wistful, it pays indirect tribute to the director’s late father: a seminal electronic musician whom Sora honored in his first film, the haunting 2023 documentary Ryuichi Sakamoto: Opus.
~~~~~~~~~
Restraint is unusual in emerging filmmakers.
Yes, Happyend is Sora’s first narrative feature—but unlike most beginners reaching for poetry, unlike most activists consumed by their cause, Sora knows how to hold back. This film’s less is more: neither saccharine nor strident, its visual and musical motifs have contrapuntal payoffs, mirroring the evolution of its characters.
The film also shares DNA with other coming-of-age classics: the rebellious spirit of American Graffiti and Dazed and Confused; the bromance of Superbad; the mix of humor and social commentary in Y Tu Mama Tambien. Perhaps most of all, it recalls the cultural zeitgeists captured by Edward Yang: films that balance comedy, sensitivity and conscience. A sense of time. And place. Think Yi Yi’s warm intimacy, A Brighter Summer Day’s adolescent rollercoaster, A Confucian Confusion’s social satire. Like Yang, Sora populates his sprawl with clusters of disillusioned youth and maladjusted role models … with their setting as a fellow character.
Ultimately, Sora’s debut feature excels for its own reasons. It speaks strongly to the moment; it captures a timeless mix of familiarity and discomfort; it provokes laughter and introspection. It reminds us that the potential for change is in our hands. It also explores a crucial moment of emerging adulthood: when we realize that it may actually be cool to care. And if all that sounds like a tall order for one film, that’s because it is.
At times, Happyend may even feel like two separate movies under one roof—but this duality is a strength. It’s only because we care for these characters that we’re able to digest the film’s deeper layers. And it’s only because of these layers that the characters feel so real. Intellectual depth is there if you want it, but fear not: this is far from a grad school thesis. Regardless of age or background, chances are you will see yourself in these kids.
What better conduit than uncertainty?
Reviewed at NYFF 2024.
113 min.
Where to Watch: Pending release by Metrograph Pictures.