Tokyo Godfathers: A Christmas Miracle

I had a bad week. I mean a really bad one. This was a Stroczek (1977) kind of week, the kind that separates the boys from the men and definitively and unreservedly placed me on the side of the boys. There was no lesson to the last seven days, no positive one anyway. But, of course, having such a bad time leads, nevertheless, to questions. Questions like: how does one go on? And, most important of all, what movie should I watch?

These situations call for special consideration. Something too depressing, like say Gerald Kargl’s Angst (1983) would be a bridge too far. Misery loves company, but some company is too morose even for the teary-eyed dejected. At the same time, anything life affirming would be a waste. Tree of Life (2011) is no panacea—I promise. To the downtrodden, that movie reads like mockery and filth. What then to watch?

Why Satoshi Kon’s Tokyo Godfathers (2003), of course. I heard about this film long ago, when the idea of three homeless people (a drunk, a trans-woman, and a teen runaway) guarding a newborn infant during a blizzard sounded like it had to mean a horror movie. But this is a comedy. A heartfelt comedy. Its big gestures, breakneck japes, and commitment to sentiment squarely place it in the grand tradition of heartwarming, order-restoring comedic works of art. So what if the characters, caring for a baby during a Christmas blizzard in Tokyo, almost freeze to death night in and night out?

This is really more a recommendation than a review. It feels like a sin to give any more away, as so much of Kon’s film nests in the plot, which never stops chugging forward and runs on the impure coal of improbable coincidence. But the thing is that I never cared. The characters are so lovingly crafted, their motives so deeply human, the backdrop to their actions so bleakly gorgeous that I couldn’t be bothered to care about bugbears like realism. In a word, Tokyo Godfathers is a melodrama and a damn good one to boot.

After weeks like this last one, one needs hope balanced with suffering, a light shining in what otherwise appears as bleakness. One needs the story of Christmas, which, in its way, is what Kon offers here. Such is my belated present—to pass the chance to view such a miracle on.