ONE NIGHT IN TOKYO: A Modest Indie Overcoming The Barrier of Language

Any chance I get to live vicariously through someone else’s experience in Japan, I’ll take it, especially in films. There are normally two modes of Tokyo movies: those that take on the point of view of native Japanese and those framed around foreigners. This sounds obvious, yet it fundamentally changes how we understand the city and its function within narratives.

At first glance, One Night in Tokyo fits squarely in the Lost in Translation school, and Sofia Coppola‘s film has become the measuring stick for all its successors. Sometimes it feels like the city becomes a handy metaphor for the listlessness of the primary characters. It effectively sets a figure in sharp relief to the world around them.

Welcome to Tokyo

Sam (Reza Emamiyeh) is much the same as Coppola‘s American characters adrift in Japan. He’s instantly placeable with his New York Mets hat and the slight trace of an accent. He’s come to Tokyo armed with his satchel, a typewritten itinerary, and plans to see a Japanese friend. Most of all, it’s an excuse to reconnect after being long-distance with his girlfriend. They can still make it work, but there’s a despondency in the air, and calls from a pesky coworker feel like buzzing misquotes in his ears.

His girlfriend, Becca (Cailee Oliver), comes off as a villain in the first few minutes of their reunion, exercising a new level of sadism. Instead of breaking it off over the phone, she allows him to fly all the way across the world so she can do it in person. It beggars belief. Lloyd Dobler received a pen for his troubles in Say Anything; here, Sam is bequeathed a watch, and it feels like the movie could very well be over before it begins. After the debacle, he walks around Harajuku and books his return ticket home as quickly as possible. But for all the cherry blossom enthusiasts, at least we sneak a few glances of the sakura.

It turns out that Sam’s friend Jun (Shinichiro Watanabe) has had plans come up, too, so these successive rejections become the contrived set-up for the story’s true meet-cute. Jun’s girlfriend will take Sam on a night out with her friends. They rendezvous at Shibuya’s Hachikō statue near the famed scramble crossing. I admit I’ve met friends there before a time or two myself.

Sam doesn’t speak the language, and Ayaka (Tokiko Kitagawa) doesn’t seem to be in an accommodating mood as she streaks away without a word, expecting him to keep up. Where can the movie possibly go from here?

Overcoming the Barrier

One Night in Tokyo gains real vitality when it integrates this foreigner into a group of locals. He joins them for dinner and drinks. He doesn’t understand them, they don’t speak much English, but they manage to have a passably fun time together. Think of Bill Murray singing karaoke or running the streets with Scarlett Johansson. It’s that kind of energy.

However, there’s something else that’s important to the story. It reminds me of Parasite director Bong Joon-ho‘s entreaty at the Oscars back in 2020, “Once you overcome the one-inch tall barrier of subtitles, you will be introduced to so many more amazing films.”

Subtitles not only open us to new worlds of film. Subtitles done well give us access to perspectives we could not appreciate otherwise. In One Night in Tokyo, we have privileged access to Japanese dialogue this American compatriot doesn’t have as these friends chat about embarrassing personal stories and Picasso.

It feels like a respite in this space sheltered from the rest of the plot — something for us to enjoy on its own terms without lowering the hammer of critique. Once this is over, we’re back to more contrivance. Ayaka finds out Jun has been cheating; it feels like there’s little attempt to understand either of the “villains” in this story, although we soon understand why. Besides, the details don’t matter so much as the consequences. Sam was dumped earlier. Ayaka has been cheated on. It gives them the opportunity to drown their sorrows together because they’re on even ground.

Technology supplied by Sam’s phone allows them to communicate, and they have the kind of conversation you might imagine in the movies.

Favorite films tell us a lot about a person. The people in front of us are either very old souls (I relate) or there’s a benevolent hand behind the scenes wanting to share a couple of classics in Yasujiro Ozu‘s Tokyo Story and Charlie Chaplin‘s City Lights. (As a side note, Chaplin was almost assassinated during a visit to Japan, but that’s a rabbit hole for another time.)

Eventually, there’s the need to don the cap of an NHK viewer after Sam puts away his phone and everything continues to be translated. But for the sake of the story (and the audience), it’s the most convenient path forward.

Conclusion: One Night in Tokyo

To their credit, the actors build something genuine out of the movie. We get this sense of an evening together, of two people making a connection in a limited amount of time. Again, we have benchmarks like Lost in Translation or Before Sunrise. Joshua Woodcock‘s movie doesn’t require these types of ambitions, and this is fine because it does what it can with what’s at its disposal. This is something to be admired.

The intermittent joy comes in seeing what it’s able to accomplish within its means because you don’t always need a blockbuster budget to tell a story. What stands out are the moments — the bits and pieces of time we can take with us.

My only major qualm is with Sam. Who in their right mind would cut short a trip to Japan when you have the opportunity to enjoy so much of what the culture has to offer? But then again, people change, and Sam eventually sees more of the country. A movie can change too — and One Night in Tokyo works best as a two-hander with two languages firmly represented after the rest of the plot has burned off. In this small way, it represents the Tokyo I remember formed between cultures.

One Night in Tokyo is now available to watch on VOD.