Hirokazu Koreeda’s Still Walking (Aruitemo Aruitemo) is one of the most profoundly subtle yet emotionally resonant family dramas I’ve ever seen. It’s a film that doesn’t rely on big dramatic confrontations or plot twists; instead, it captures the quiet tensions, unspoken regrets, and unhealed wounds that exist within families—especially between parents and their grown children.

The story unfolds over the course of a single day as the Yokoyama family gathers to commemorate the death of the eldest son, Junpei. What makes Still Walking so impactful is how naturalistic and painfully real its dynamics feel. The aging parents, especially the father, harbor quiet disappointments in their surviving son, Ryota, who never lived up to their expectations. There’s no explosive argument, just subtle passive-aggression, lingering resentment, and words left unsaid—things that many families experience but rarely acknowledge out loud.

Koreeda’s attention to small, everyday details is what makes the film feel so authentic. The way food is prepared, the awkward silences at the dinner table, the offhanded yet hurtful remarks that cut deep—these moments feel like fragments of real life rather than scripted scenes. The film also carries a strong undercurrent of inevitability; time moves forward, regrets remain, and relationships don’t always heal in the way we wish they would.

Despite its melancholic themes, Still Walking isn’t overly bleak. There’s warmth, humor, and love, even if it’s imperfectly expressed. It’s a film that lingers long after watching, making you reflect on your own family relationships, the things left unsaid, and the fleeting nature of time.

It’s one of Koreeda’s best works, in my opinion. Did any scene or line in particular stand out to you?