Modern Japanese society has inspired its fair share of “troubled youth” novels and screenplays over the years. Films like Eureka, Harmful Insect, and The Blue Light have skillfully dealt with the after-effects of neglect and abandonment on the children of broken homes. But what happens when a traditional nuclear family actually sticks together through all the lies, mistrust, and alienation inherent to an unbroken, but increasingly fractured home? Director Kiyoshi Kurosawa explores this very scenario in Tokyo Sonata, a slow-burning film about a seemingly ordinary family driven to the brink of collapse by their complete lack of communication. For Kurosawa, someone who’s known for leaning heavily on ethereal underpinnings and surreal flourishes, a story so grounded in the mundane is completely new territory compared to his previous work—yet the end result is no less haunting.

Based on a screenplay originally penned by Australian Max Mannix, the film stars Teruyuki Kagawa as a fairly typical, if a bit twitchy Japanese business man named Ryuhei Sasaki. Currently the Director of Administration at Tanita Corporation, Sasaki is highly respected for his dedication as a worker and for his leadership skills. Unfortunately, a brief meeting with his boss about his current position being outsourced to China ends with the sobering realization that his skills are no longer useful to the company. Instead of actually telling his wife Megumi (Kyoko Koizumi) about his dismissal, Sasaki pretends as if everything is status quo, and leaves the house every morning—briefcase in hand—with every intention of finding a new job comparable to his old one before his family catches on. Unfortunately times have changed, and he soon discovers he’s not the only former middle manager waiting in free food lines or being told their skill sets only qualify them for menial jobs.

Sasaki’s frustration eventually bleeds over into his home life as he tries to assert his authority over his two sons. When the younger son Kenji voices an interest in playing the piano he’s summarily shot down without explanation. Instead of arguing, Kenji uses his monthly lunch money to pay for lessons in secret and cuts classes to avoid being discovered—basically mirroring his father’s ruse to avoid any unnecessary discussion. Meanwhile, the directionless older son Takashi abruptly joins the US military in an earnest attempt to find meaning in his life. Later, reflective matriarch Megumi becomes so profoundly unhappy with what her life has become that she willingly drives off with a knife-wielding thief (Koji Yakusho) and blatantly passes up an obvious opportunity to escape,  in part because she really likes his stolen Peugeot 207cc hard top convertible (in fairness, it is a pretty sweet ride).

For all the craziness occurring in each of these family members’ lives, they never feel the need to discuss any of it with each other beyond superficial bluster. Once they enter the confines of the home, privacy and personal space are closely-guarded commodities. Kenji values his so much that he has an actual line drawn on the floor of his room to ward off any potential invaders. Takashi—a grizzled vet in Sasaki family avoidance compared to his brother—is rarely even seen at home throughout the film; he basically vanishes like a ghost until he needs something. This idea of family members living together in the same home but leading completely separate lives aside from meals and the occasional argument is incredibly resonant to the point of being disquieting. Kurosawa may take his characters to bizarre extremes to explore this phenomenon, but still manages to tap into fundamental truths about family that just about anyone can relate to on some level—even if they never gave it much thought before.

Teruyuki Kagawa, known best for his supporting roles, is absolutely fearless in his performance, from the various humiliations he suffers in job interviews to puffing his chest as the domineering patriarch at home. Koizumi’s portrayal of the loving wife and mother suppressing a dark undercurrent is more understated, but equally impressive, as she seems to be the one person that has everything together until it’s suddenly revealed that nothing could be further from the truth.

Multi-layered and engrossing, Tokyo Sonata is a cinematic punch to the gut that leaves you a little winded for the experience—but in a good way. It’s not often a film can leave you feeling emotionally drained, yet still eager to go back and watch it again. That seems to be a common thread in Kurosawa’s best films, and this one is certainly no exception.

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Tags: haruka igawa, kai inowaki, kanji tsuda, kazuya kojima, kiyoshi kurosawa, koji yakusho, kyoko koizumi, teruyuki kagawa, tokyo sonata, yu koyanagi