gizem’s review published on Letterboxd:
love, forgetting, longing, passion, war, torture, pain, broken souls... a movie that contains all of these and even more. in the opening scene, the consequences of the war has been shown us and broke our hearts already.
the reason for this is not the war images we are used to see, but the narration of the film that flows like a poem. the film tells us what they want to tell through the lives of the Japanese architect and French actress who came to Hiroshima to make a peace-themed film. even though they have different lives, their suffering is similar and its cause is nothing but war. it reminds once again how painful the thing called memory hurts.
Four times at the museum in Hiroshima. I saw people walking around. People walking, thoughtful, past the photographs and reconstructions, for lack of anything else. Photographs, photographs and reconstructions, for lack of anything else. Explanations, for lack of anything else. Four times at the museum in Hiroshima. I looked at the people. I myself looked, thoughtfully, at the iron. Iron, burned and twisted. Iron made vulnerable as flesh. I saw the bouquet of bottle tops. Who could imagine such a thing? Human skin, floating, surviving, still in the bloom of agony. And stones. Burned stones, shattered stones. Anonymous locks of hair, that Hiroshima's women, when they awoke, discovered had fallen out.
