After Yang (2022)

Kogonada had my heart on puppet strings.

But oh so gentle, so soft that it felt like I went and stood there on the little riser myself, accompanied by piano and violins and the softest rustling of leaves and why, didn't we always want to go down to Sakamoto?

Held my arms up like a little kid, looking at how pretty the patterns were that the sunlight played on my hands as you tied the strings.

Soft so soft, I only realised I was bleeding when the end credits had finished rolling and I realised I had exactly half a pint of blood left to grieve. I knew further that even if I had three full pints left, I’d spend it all thinking about the film, chiselling a poem on the tombstone. That the last drops were spent being tender and that would make it okay.

There is a little charcoal cube loving in my heart now, it beats to miski and the joy of a certain beverage. Long ponytails and pale cheeks with tattoos. Its a good enough deal.

Its like Koganada is being Yang himself, each scene feels so whetted, the edit almost as loved and carefully put together as Yang’s memories. Plucked and savoured by the lens in peace. Its delight had been consummated long before anybody else put on the glasses.

There is no haste, I don’t try to lap up the beauty.

Its tranquil and calm, knowing its making the best of the moments it is here for. It might leave you longing for more, but the truth is that it is complete. From the moment the first note hits, you know its a complete song. You just have to sit back and let yourself be taken. There is a liquid quality about the scenes, the colouring, the cadence, it feels dreamlike, watching somebody’s mind. Not watching someone in action, its like a beat slower, a beat more patient, almost meditative.

Watch the trailer here: