Lessons learned from "Confessions".

I don't know what it is about the Japanese culture, but I find that they're an emotional people. They're not exactly the "heart-on-my-sleeve" type, but they do manifest their emotions externally. And it is most evident in their works of art - the words to their songs are a little sadder, their cartoons are a little deeper, and their television shows and films are little more provocative. And so when my brother recommended this movie to me a couple of days ago, I couldn't help but feel somewhat validated:

I have since watched this twice. And I am not ashamed to admit that in both occasions, I ended up with sweaty palms and cold feet. From time to time I would turn away from the screen so I can avert my eyes from just a split-second of some of the morbid scenes, only to end up seeing another one when I look back. (There were plenty in the movie. In some ways it was reminiscent of Mel Gibson's "Passion", save for a younger cast, a more modern soundtrack, and much less violence.) I got scared shitless. And yet I stuck with it to the very last frame, because the story was as gripping as it is gruesome. For some reason I wanted to get to the end a little sooner, not just to avoid all the gore but also because I wished for some closure to already come to everyone involved. We get what we deserve, after all. And until the very last second, amid all the chaos that had gone on for the past 90 minutes, that closure - or something like it - was finally reached.

Here are some of the things I picked up on:

The Japanese character for "life" (命) written on the blackboard.

I learned that people have different reactions to different things, and how they react is a reflection of their character. How do we respond to tragedy, for instance? Do we calmly take a step back to see the bigger picture? Do we crumble under the weight of our emotions and let it consume us whole? Or do we ignore the situation completely and try to divert our attention elsewhere?

I learned that there is nothing like the love of a mother. It is a mother's love for her son that enables her to look beyond his faults, no matter how grave, and see the innate good in him through thick and thin. It is a son's love for his mother that fuels him to become greater than who he is now, hoping to stand head and shoulders above everyone else but more importantly to stand an inch closer to her. And it is a mother's love that compels her to take action when her child has been wronged and do whatever it takes to correct it. Sometimes at the expense of others, or even their own self.

I learned that the need to be needed is something of a force of nature. The need for our hands to caress the hair of a loved one, the need for a warm embrace to envelop our cold bodies, the need for appreciation of all our accomplishments, the need for company. People will often go to great lengths to satisfy these needs. And disappointment is abound when they fail, which is expected, but it does not hinder their hearts. Rather, it only advances their resolve and prompts them to double, or even triple their efforts. Human beings are naturally sentimental. And thus the feeling of being disconnected to the world without someone, anyone, to lean on is understandably devastating.

Finally I learned that retaliation is easier than reconciliation, which makes the latter a much nobler act but does not make the former any less human. To "forgive and forget" is a tall order to ask of anyone, especially those who have been unjustly scorned and have every right to seek revenge. What makes it difficult is the complex dynamic of the two words: forgiving is after the fact, while forgetting is matter-of-fact. To do both requires an understanding that is beyond human, perhaps near the Divine. But human as we are, the choice to "take the easy way out" is available.

In the end, it is all about our choices. When we are backed into a corner, our "fight-or-flight" instincts kick in. And what we decide to do ultimately defines who we are, and will remain with us for the rest of our lives until we are made accountable for those choices - one way or another.

Oh. And one last thing I learned from this movie. Hypothetically speaking, if I was made to choose between kidnapping Liam Neeson's daughter or killing Yuko Moriguchi's, I would choose kidnapping without question. At least I can fend off Liam Neeson. But if I end up getting killed, that's nothing compared to the "living hell" that I would have to deal with if I cross Yuko-sensei. She gives me the creeps.

(PS: Notice that I have not given anything away about the movie, so consider yourselves not spoiled. Go check it out when you can - it's a brilliant movie!)