A Pale View of Hills
Directed by Kei Ishikawa
In cinemas across the UK from 13 March 2026
Review by Mayumi Donovan
How reliable are your memories? Especially when you don’t want to believe that what you remember is what really happened? Is it even possible to rewrite your memories?
A Pale View of Hills takes us back to 1950s Nagasaki, a city still scarred by the second atomic bomb that devastated the town, its people, and their lives. Etsuko has since moved to England with her late husband.
The story begins in 1980s England, following the older Etsuko (Yo Yoshida). A track by New Order immediately situates us in the era. Her daughter Niki, an aspiring journalist, is eager to prove herself. Encouraged by her editor - who she is also in a relationship with - she sets out to uncover her mother’s past in Nagasaki. Etsuko is reluctant to speak, but gradually begins to share her memories, perhaps prompted by the fact that she is preparing to sell the house she has lived in for so long.
The film moves back and forth between the 1950s and the 1980s, and in both timelines there is a sense of something unresolved hanging over the family. At times, it even feels like a quiet psychological horror: what happened to the elder daughter, Keiko? What lies behind the locked room?
In postwar Nagasaki, the young Etsuko (Suzu Hirose) lives a quietly conservative life, devoted to her husband. On the surface, her life appears calm and content, yet there is something unsettling beneath it. The arrival of her father-in-law, Ogata (Tomokazu Miura), subtly disrupts the household. Etsuko plays the role of the perfect wife, warmly caring for him while her husband, Jiro (Kohei Matsushita), keeps a certain emotional distance.
In one revealing moment, Ogata asks whether Jiro is kind to her. Etsuko replies that he is, and Ogata expresses relief that she is happy. She confirms it - but is she really? The camera pointedly avoids showing her face, a quiet but powerful suggestion that her true feelings remain hidden.
Etsuko becomes more alive after meeting Sachiko (Fumi Nikaido), a single mother with a young daughter, Mariko, who dreams of moving to the United States with her American boyfriend. Drawn to Sachiko’s optimism - “You can be anything in America” - Etsuko begins to reconnect with her own buried desires. Her dreams, like her emotions, seem locked away. One particularly striking moment comes when Ogata speaks about life before the atomic bomb; here, the film briefly exposes the deep scars carried by Etsuko and the people of Nagasaki, even though it rarely addresses the bomb directly.
All the performances are excellent, especially from Suzu Hirose and Fumi Nikaido. Both are major stars in Japan, and this marks their first on-screen collaboration. They share a subtle but powerful chemistry. Tomokazu Miura is equally impressive as Ogata, portraying a man who is gentle yet firmly rooted in traditional values.
The cinematography is both beautiful and deliberate. The Nagasaki scenes are bright, almost oversaturated, bathed in warm light that gives them a dreamlike, almost unreal quality - perhaps reflecting the version of the past Etsuko chooses to remember. The influence of Yasujirō Ozu is clear in the static camera placements and carefully composed interiors, where elements like hashira (pillars) and frosted glass subtly obscure and divide the frame, hinting at what remains unspoken. In contrast, the England scenes are darker and more subdued, grounding the narrative in a more tangible reality.
At its core, this is a film about the past we wish we could rewrite. It reveals fragments of truth but leaves many questions unanswered. By the end, you may find yourself wanting to return to the beginning, searching for meaning in what was left unsaid. What lingers most is its quiet message: we all have to change - no matter the era.