“Demonstrates a remarkable confidence in tone, atmosphere, and emotional observation.”
“Is it possible to touch light?”
Premiering in this year’s Cannes Film Festival’s Un Certain Regard section is the latest film from rising Japanese director Yukiko Sode. Her previous film Aristocrats played at the International Film Festival Rotterdam and established her as a filmmaker with great sensitivity toward isolation, class, and the interior lives of women. With All the Lovers in the Night, her first film to premiere at Cannes, Sode crafts a quiet and meditative work, one deeply interested in loneliness, trauma, and human connection. The film carries many of the sensibilities associated with Ozu, such as naturalistic rhythms, restrained emotions, and a deep attention to the everyday, while also being distinct in its own ways.
Based on the 2011 novel of the same name by Mieko Kawakami, the film tells the story of Fuyuko, a freelance proofreader who spends most of her life alone. She works from home, revising and reviewing manuscripts ranging from novels to academic texts. Her days are repetitive and isolated. She quietly moves through Tokyo, often walking alone at night in the wind or sitting in the rain. She dislikes large gatherings and struggles to express herself naturally around others. She is awkward, clumsy, and deeply introverted, but there is something profoundly recognizable about her. Fuyuko embodies the lived experiences of many introverted and neurodivergent individuals, people who are constantly observing the world around them while struggling to comfortably participate within it. Sode does a tremendous job of not judging Fuyuko for who she is, and instead creates a fully complex and beautiful character.
Yukino Kishii gives a tremendous performance playing Fuyuko, one of immense honesty and emotion. Every movement and hesitation feels sincere and lived in. Kishii portrays a woman who seems emotionally and physically complex in multiple ways. At moments, Fuyuko feels adolescent-like in her fragility, uncertainty, and appearance; at others, she carries the exhaustion, sadness, and looks of someone much older. Kishii balances these complexities beautifully. The performance becomes even more layered through Fuyuko’s alcoholism, which Kishii portrays without melodrama. Her drinking never feels sensationalized, but instead emerges as another coping mechanism for isolation, heartbreak, and emotional paralysis. Everything about the character rings painfully true due to Kishii’s performance.
Fuyuko’s closest friend is Hijiri, played wonderfully by Misato Morita. Hijiri exists almost as Fuyuko’s opposite. She socializes easily, travels frequently, and engages in open relationships without hesitation or guilt. Yet despite their differences, the two maintain a genuine friendship. Their dynamic gives the film warmth and movement, and the chemistry between the actresses elevates many of the quieter scenes. Hijiri’s openness throws Fuyuko’s isolation into sharper relief, but the film never judges either woman for how they move through the world.
The film’s emotional core begins to develop when Fuyuko meets Mitsutsuka (played by Tadanobu Asano), a physics teacher. The two slowly begin spending time together over the course of several months, usually meeting in diners and afterward taking long walks. Their conversations revolve around physics, sound waves, colors, music, and Fuyuko’s work as a proofreader. Fuyuko gradually falls in love with him, though she struggles deeply to express affection or desire.
What makes these interactions so compelling is the film’s fascination with physics itself. Mitsutsuka speaks about particles of light and sound waves, while Fuyuko relates these ideas back to proofreading. She explains that even after books are published, she can still notice tiny mistakes hidden within them, details which are invisible to almost everyone else. In the same way, physicists perceive realities most people cannot see. It is such an unusual and unexpectedly rich framework for a film about loneliness and intimacy. Sode uses these discussions not simply as intellectual decoration, but as the thematic foundation. Light, particles, and invisible movement become metaphors for Fuyuko’s experiences. Visually, Sode mirrors these ideas creatively with the film’s lovely cinematography and stunning shots. Each scene is filmed with radiant natural light. Streetlights are reflected at night, clouds are beautifully shown passing overhead, and rays of light are pristinely shown hitting bushes and trees.
About an hour into the film, there is a striking temporal shift. We go back in time and a younger Fuyuko spends time with a boy she is interested in. The two discuss whether they will remain in their rural hometown or eventually move to Tokyo while he introduces her to Argentine folk rock. The relationship deteriorates, but its consequences remain deeply embedded within Fuyuko’s adult life.
For this reason, All the Lovers in the Night becomes not only a film about light and physics, but also one about how seemingly small moments affect every aspect of human life and development. Just as particles collide and transform one another, people are shaped by encounters, heartbreaks, loneliness, and memories they cannot fully erase. Some of these moments we have no control over. Like physics itself, human psychology is shown as something impossibly layered and shaped by countless external and internal forces.
The film’s recurring tension between darkness and light also extends to its subtle use of Christianity and Christmas imagery. Characters gather during the Christmas season, and Fuyuko’s birthday falls on Christmas Eve. These details quietly reinforce the director’s fascination with light, hope, loneliness, and rebirth. The symbolism never feels forced, but instead naturally folds into the film’s larger story and themes.
All the Lovers in the Night is an accomplishment on many levels. Its pacing is leisurely and meditative as Sode stretches moments and silences. Time passes slowly in this world, which only heightens Fuyuko’s isolation and emotional distance from others. There are moments where the film risks pushing its languid pacing too far, but even then, the lived-in quality of the scenes keeps it compelling. Sode allows her characters to breathe, something increasingly rare in contemporary cinema. The film could easily have been a melodrama, but Sode approaches Fuyuko with patience, creating a film about loneliness and fragility.
With All the Lovers in the Night, Yukiko Sode further establishes herself as one of the most exciting emerging voices in modern Japanese cinema. The film demonstrates a remarkable confidence in tone, atmosphere, and emotional observation. Through its luminous imagery and deeply human performances, Sode crafts a film that lingers quietly, like light remaining visible long after darkness arrives.