Stream It Or Skip It: ‘Call Me Chihiro’ on Netflix, a Wistful Japanese Character Drama Unburdened by Plot

Call Me Chihiro (now on Netflix) is filmmaker Rikiya Imaizumi’s adaptation of the manga Chihiro-san, about a former sex worker who brightens the lives of people she meets. The movie is a lighthearted drama with a lachrymose spirit, being a meandering rumination on loneliness – a meandering rumination on loneliness in which nothing much really happens at all. If this was an American movie, Chihiro would be dying of cancer and not telling anyone, or something like that. But this is a Japanese film that requires some patience, and perhaps tempered expectations, because it’s a hangout movie that’s more about mood than anything else. 

CALL ME CHIHIRO: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: We meet Chihiro (Kasumi Arimura) as she gets on her knees and cheerfully pets and plays with the stray neighborhood cat. So, first impression: Quite good! Anyone who loves on a goofy little fuzzball can’t be half-bad. She works at a bento stand, where she has a small following of admirers, mainly men, who are likely impressed and/or enamored with her since she’s so open about her former job in a massage parlor. She has an upbeat effervescence to her that brightens any scene, and not in a cloying, overbearing way – her bubbly charm is subtle, natural. 

Yet you won’t be shocked to learn that Chihiro is a lonely soul beneath those chipper vibes, chipper vibes that warm other lonely souls slow and easy like the morning sun to the earth. She kind of floats and wanders through life, free on a wistful breeze of whimsy, gathering friends here and there. One is Okaji (Hana Toyoshima), a teenage schoolgirl who feels increasingly alienated from her family and friends. Another is Makoto (Tetta Shimada), a young boy, maybe seven or eight years old, whose single mother (Yui Sakama) works all the time and leaves him alone far too long considering his age. Chihiro sees some boys picking on a homeless man (Keiichi Suzuki) because he smells bad, so she shoos away the pests, gives the man her lunch and takes him home to give him a bath. She scrubs his back and washes his hair for him and everything. A few scenes later, she searches for him and finds his body in what’s perhaps the loneliest spot in Japan. She buries him on a quiet evening, lit only by moonlight.

Chihiro regularly visits the woman she replaced at the bento stand, Tae (Jun Fubuki), who’s hospitalized after losing her sight. She meets Betchin (Itsuki Nagasawa), and they bond over their appreciation for manga. She hangs out with former co-worker Bazi, and reconnects with Utsumi (Lily Franky), her former boss at the massage parlor, who now runs a tropical fish shop. Not much happens: Chihiro enjoys pleasant moments with her friends. Chihiro walks along the seaside emanating loneliness. Chihiro finds a dead seagull and buries it. She meets a man at a ramen shop and has sex with him. She falls into a funk. She answers a call from her brother, who tells her their mother passed away, and asks if she’ll be at the funeral. “I’ll pass,” she says. Utumi describes Chihiro as being “like a ghost.” Bazi calls her “weirdly unattached.” Chihiro talks about how she feels like she’s from another planet, which seems a bit melodramatic. I’d say she’s just a Melancholy Wanderer.

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: Call Me Chihiro finds the sweet spot nestled between Amelie (happy-on-the-outside-but-sad-on-the-inside protagonist) and Drive My Car (sad people talking and staring at things for a long time).

Performance Worth Watching: Arimura seems to draw on Audrey Tautou’s Amelie character, but is more understated in her approach, finding a zen-like existential state that suggests a woman who’s searching for herself and her purpose. 

Memorable Dialogue: Chihiro: “For some reason, I feel like eating ramen after burying a body.”

Sex and Skin: A brief non-nude sex scene.

Our Take: The But Nothing Happens crowd will have a field day tearing apart Call Me Chihiro, which forgoes all the usual dramatic overtures we might expect from a movie. There are no big revelations among these characters, just slow self-realizations. Imaizumi rummages around in the idea that family is who we choose to be with more than who fate has saddled us with, but this is far from a heavy-handed proselytizing. We simply spend time with Chihiro and her slightly oddball clan, which comes together under her little parasol – a little parasol that might just end up floating away with Chihiro still holding on to it, Poppins-style.

The film’s airiness can be both comforting and frustrating; sometimes Imaizumi seems to be aiming for profound reticence, and lands on inertness. But the breezy tone isn’t insubstantial – death is a character here who works in the background, like light and time. When there’s so much relative silence in a movie – often backed by a sparse minor-key piano score – such fundamentals of existence make themselves known, don’t they? There’s a moment here where Chihiro reveals that she was stabbed once, in the back, but we don’t see it happen or hear her tell the story, it’s just something that barely ripples through the narrative. The film’s hang-out-and-be-sad M.O. sometimes feels lovely and poignant, and sometimes feels unfocused, like it’s too big of a blank slate for us to project our feelings on. We don’t need emotions spoon-fed to us, but sometimes a nudge in the right direction helps.

Our Call:  Call Me Chihiro’s thoughtfulness outweighs its lack of focus. The melancholy wash will work nicely for those open to it, so STREAM IT, but only if you’re in the mood.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.