THE TSUNAMI AND THE CHERRY BLOSSOM

Director: Lucy Walker

Rating: 5/5

I lost the means to live and I lost the meaning of my life – Tsunami survivor, The Tsunami and The Cherry Blossom.

Lucy Walker’s heartbreakingly sad account of the 2011 East Japanese tsunami begins with a first-person/camcorder sequence that captures both the scale of the merciless destruction and the fear and horror in the voice of those lucky to have escaped its path. As the March 11 anniversary of the immense tragedy unfolds, Walker’s film should be mandatory viewing.

Having displayed a profound empathy for her subjects in her Oscar-winning feature doc Waste Land in 2010, Walker again captures with aching accuracy the scarred personalities of those that survived but who, inevitably, lost many family and friends. Few can recall the experience without breaking down. One man sobs when telling of losing a lifelong friend, his outstretched arm too short to grasp by mere inches; a young woman describes watching the elderly get swept away, unable to run from the encroaching surge.

But the intent of Walker’s film is not to simply recall the moment but to also capture how the Japanese people have fallen back on ancient traditions to ease their pain and comfort themselves. On site only a matter of weeks after the disaster occurred, the filmmaker captures the first spring cherry blossoms blooming, quite incredibly, amidst the square miles of debris and unidentified deceased.

Despite the destruction of the natural landscape and the life-decaying by-products of the Fukushima nuclear plant leaks, the life-affirming buds of the sakura flourished. But in 2011, the soft-pink flowers took on even greater cultural resonance, signifying new hope and a nation’s rebirth. Although the annual festival of hanami (blossom viewing parties) was curtailed, the joy brought by the ancient plant was immense.

Walker’s documentary (wondrously photographed in conjunction with Aaron Phillips), despite being a mere 40 minutes long, captures the deeply human and proudly nationalistic spirit of the country in general and the survivors in particular. The end-credits roll to a Moby track, from which emanates a strong pulsating heartbeat that rhythmically implies life. Like the rest of Lucy Walker’s achingly beautiful elegy, the music honours the nearly 20,000 dead who will live on in a country’s memories as well as those who survived, who did so with unshakeable faith and centuries-old fortitude.

Many many things they call to mind, these cherry blossoms – Traditional haiku.