
Japanese director and screenwriter Hirokazu Kore-eda attends a press conference for the film Sheep in The Box at the 79th Cannes Film Festival on May 17.IAN LANGSDON/AFP/Getty Images
At the Cannes Film Festival, scheduling an interview with a filmmaker can be an exercise in stamina and patience. Some directors arrive with an armada of handlers – agents, publicists, distribution executives, even personal stylists – and necessitate constant rescheduling, with the eventual meeting narrowed down to 10 or 15 minutes, after which you’re politely, if efficiently, ushered out of a five-star hotel suite and plunked down onto the plebian-filled streets below.
Speaking with Japanese master Hirokazu Kore-eda, though, is akin to hopping inside a time machine, back to when press days were far more leisurely scheduled affairs. During a half-hour or so conversation inside a discrete but not exactly off-limits apartment courtyard, Kore-eda sat down to talk about his new sci-fi dramedy Sheep in the Box as if he had all the time in the world. And afterwards, he simply picked up his knapsack and disappeared into the crowded streets, solo.
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The low-key approach to publicity nicely suits Kore-eda’s filmography – small, quiet, intimate stories exploring the seemingly ancient art of human connection (including his surrogate-family drama Shoplifters, which won Cannes’ coveted Palme d’Or in 2018). Sheep in the Box, which tells the story of a couple who adopt an AI-powered android designed to resemble their recently deceased son, is similar in its low-key tone: this is a story that takes a handful of potentially incendiary topics and explores them softly, hushed and unrushed.
A few days after the film’s Cannes premiere, and ahead of its North American release this weekend, Kore-eda spoke with The Globe and Mail, via a translator, about the sensitive line between art and tech.
This film takes an interesting look at technology, and I can’t help but think that we have different perspectives on AI in the West than Japan. We’re more fearful of it, thinking that the robots are going to inevitably kill us. Whereas in Japan, correct me if I’m wrong, there appears to be a history of embracing new technology and making it more human, like Ghost in the Shell or AstroBoy. Is that part of what drove the sentiment behind this movie?
I think that is there, but in the background it goes further than that. It’s almost the same with forests. There is a history in the West of cutting forests and civilizing the land. But in Japan, we have a sense of co-existence with the forests, or at least not making enemies of them. We see spirits there. We’re connected with the land in a deep-rooted sense. It’s similar to our relationship with technology.
That said, do you see yourself as a filmmaker embracing AI as a tool to be more efficient with your budget and time, or something more that directly speaks to your artistic process?
I still shoot on film, so I largely ignore efficiencies. That aside, think about it like when you’re shooting someone driving a car. Ten years ago, you would pull a real car around the real street. But nowadays, you have a car sitting on the background of a set. It’s more efficient, cheaper, safer. We’ve come to think of that as normal. And yet, actors I work with find it easier to act in a car when they can feel the wind in their hair, when they can see the scenery moving. And that more inefficient way of working gives rise to coincidences, serendipity, moments that can only happen because you’re doing it for real. I had ChatGPT read my screenplay to give feedback, as an experiment. But I prefer the feedback that comes from actually seeing the actors on set and editing the film myself, and making changes as I go along, that organic process. I don’t think that there’s room for AI in that process.
In terms of the themes in this story, I couldn’t help but recall your earlier film, Air Doll, about an inflatable sex doll that comes to life and develops consciousness. Is there a connection for you between the work?
It was something different for me. In Air Doll, it was from the doll’s point of view. Here, it’s more about the story of people who feel like they need AI in their lives. I’m interested in the relationship between humans, and the non-human. Maybe not so much as someone like Guillermo del Toro, but the idea of what makes us human.
You have a long history of working with child actors, and have gotten some remarkable performances from them. How do you approach working with such young performers, and balancing the responsibility you might feel toward them and the film you’re making?
They’re all different. There is no one-size-fits-all method when it comes to children. You have to come to them on their level, and some I’ll take by the hand and lead, and some I’ll gently push. And some will not need to do anything, and I’ll just watch what they do. You have to tailor it to each individual child.
You made your 2019 film The Truth in French. At Cannes this year, we have Japanese filmmaker Ryusuke Hamaguchi and Iran’s Asghar Farhadi also working in French. I don’t know if it’s a trend, but there’s certainly momentum in foreign-language filmmakers working in, and being welcomed into, the French industry. Do you see yourself working in France again?
I think the reason so many foreign directors have come to work here is because of the system of support. It’s open, and not just to French filmmakers. And French actors have always been open about being very keen to work with foreign directors. It was a learning experience for me, watching them perform, trying to pick up on the expressions and the movements of their eyes. You can understand so much without knowing the language. It helped me grow as a director.
Sheep in the Box opens in select theatres July 31.
This interview has been condensed and edited.