Touch, 2024.
Directed by Baltasar Kormákur.
Starring Egill Ólafsson, Kōki, Pálmi Kormákur, Masahiro Motoki, Sigurður Ingvarsson, Yōko Narahashi, Masatoshi Nakamura, Meg Kubota, María Ellingsen, Eiji Mihara, Ruth Sheen, Benedikt Erlingsson, Tatsuya Tagawa, Charles Nishikawa, Starkadur Petursson, Akshay Khanna, Theodór Júlíusson, Kieran Buckeridge, Brandy Row, Masaya Mimura, Rie Shibata, Eugene Nomura, and Katla M. Þorgeirsdóttir.
SYNOPSIS:
A romantic and thrilling story that spans several decades and continents; Touch follows one man’s emotional journey to find his first love who disappeared 50 years ago, before his time runs out.
There are numerous points where Touch could have derailed into an overcooked, mawkish disaster, and that’s without getting into some insane trivia that the film is brought to you by 2 Guns director Baltasar Kormákur and author Olaf Olafsson adapting his book, who also played a key role in the creation of Sony’s PlayStation (joking aside, each of them also has a body of work suggesting that they have the credentials to tell such a tricky to navigate narrative. The nut in me just wishes the film was marketed this way.)
Touching upon three different points in the soft-spoken and mild-mannered Kristófer’s (played by Palmi Kormákur as a young adult and Egill Ólafsson in his later years) life, the story charts his social awakening, leaving the Icelandic foreigner to drop out of the prestigious London-based school for economics to take up a job washing dishes at a Japanese restaurant, a position his friends perceive as beneath him.
Taking place in the early 1970s, there is still some racist fallout against the Japanese from previous wars. That last point is crucial because, while Kristófer immediately finds himself charmed by the boss’ (Masahiro Motoki) daughter Miko (Kôki), he is drawn to all things Japanese, from learning the language to more efficiently cooking the meals to exploring the Japanese perspective of atrocities committed in war.
In the present day, not only is the world going through the early stages of COVID, shutting travel and establishments down, but Kristófer has also been recently diagnosed with a memory-related brain condition (most likely some form of early dementia, although I don’t recall if the condition is specified). Once it is also made clear early on that, for whatever reason, Kristófer and Miko separated, with the former looking to reconnect before he passes on, there is also a layer of mystery. Without saying much, those answers are simultaneously familiar yet uniquely devastating in a way that takes advantage of the time, place, and outrageous fears in which their love came about.
Instead, Baltasar Kormákur tells the story of the budding romance and gradual amassing of cultural knowledge with a delicate, gentle touch, no pun intended. The filmmaker is confident enough not to play up the advertised thriller element (which is not at all an accurate description, and for the better), wisely taking its time whether it be a young Kristófer ingratiating himself into Japanese customs or reflecting on a past life from decades ago, juxtapositions that are gracefully woven together by editor Sigurður Eyþórsson. The character now has a daughter and is in a fractured marriage, a dynamic that is most certainly the weakest element here and could have either used some fleshing out or to be excised even further. Similarly, the opening is slightly rushed and doesn’t get into what initially drew him into economics or shifting political alignments other than broad statements.
Palmi Kormákur and Egill Ólafsson appear entirely synchronized with each other’s performances, ensuring credibility that, across 50 years, this is the same man. He is depicted with a quiet sensitivity that fittingly comes back into play during the later portion, where the present day is more prevalent. Whether or not he eventually finds Miko is a spoiler I won’t divulge, but what can be said is that Kôki exhibits a sweetness and a lust for life, even when her desires clash with her father’s wishes. The chemistry has that same soft and moving glimmer as everything else here regarding the presentation.
Touch‘s emotional wallop feels more than earned by the time answers arrive. Even then, it refuses to give into cloying melodrama, maintaining a grounded approach to everything from memory conditions to the pandemic and the truth behind Miko’s sudden disappearance. Yes, this is an effectively sweeping love story spanning 50 years, but it’s also more interestingly concerned with getting at deeper issues of society in the aftermath of major historical events.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association and the Critics Choice Association. He is also the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check here for new reviews, follow my Twitter or Letterboxd, or email me at MetalGearSolid719@gmail.com
