‘Cloud’ Review

Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Cloud is one of the most rewarding experiences in a filmography that has always favoured slow-burn cinema as a means of coaxing the audience into a state of introspection. To be in lockstep with Kurosawa is to be in a constantly shifting conversation that moves towards a familiar endpoint. The narrative might change, but Kurosawa’s philosophical ruminations on humanity, isolation, technology, and the role of evil in society remain a constant. The Japanese director’s latest film is not a culmination of his work, but rather a continuation of ideas that have percolated throughout his career, while playing within a familiar sandbox of creeping dread and immoral characters thriving in the shadows. Turning his gaze towards technology and how anonymity within capitalism breeds a new type of evil, Kurosawa’s incisive commentary leaves a darkly comedic whirlwind of tension in its wake.

From the jump, Kurosawa tethers the audience to an immediately unlikable protagonist. Yoshii (Masaki Suda) is a reseller who purchases goods (both legal and counterfeit) and sells them online at a significant markup. After he hits it big with one particular sale, Yoshii rides the high. He quits his job at a factory (where he frequently refused a promotion), persuades his girlfriend, Akiko (Kotone Furukawa), to quit her job, buys a house in a small village to expand his reselling operation, and hires an assistant, Sano (Daiken Okudaira), to help with the day-to-day operations. A sense of paranoia and an acknowledgment of his sinful behaviour slowly creeps into Yoshii’s everyday life as the creaky foundations of his empire begin rotting before his very eyes. In typical Kurosawa fashion, it’s the quiet isolation that gradually eats away at an individual. Takuma Watanabe’s score echoes this dreamlike state of success, undercut by a waning stability. It’s light and picturesque at times, but underneath it lies something sinister waiting to erupt.

Cloud becomes a powder keg of tension, delving into the character while amplifying the audience’s desire for vengeance, even if the crime may not equal the punishment. Of course, that’s part of the moral quandary which Kurosawa wants the audience to negotiate. Yoshii’s non-violent crimes place him face-to-face with life-threatening consequences as he pursues success in a capitalist society. While his actions may not directly cause physical harm, they inflict financial damage that can be devastating to an individual. The repercussions of being swindled out of a significant amount of money are their own form of consumerist violence that Cloud confronts with a sly commentary that leans on Kurosawa’s horror roots. The result is a taut thriller that balances dark humour with a haunting atmosphere. It’s a lack of pity the audience has for Yoshii that lets the comedy settle within the dark corners of the narrative.

And yet, there is something approachable about Yoshii. Suda’s central performance often reinforces the comedic elements of Cloud through his constant confusion, frustration, and worry bubbling to the surface. He seems aware that what he is doing is wrong, but maintains a willful ignorance that any damage done is his responsibility. He’s described early on in the film as operating on impulse and instinct when purchasing items for resale. There’s no effort involved; it’s just being willing to cut your losses if something doesn’t sell while profiting massively now and then. It’s the back half of the movie where that selfishness and ambition begin staring down the barrel. Kurosawa’s film then seamlessly shifts into a conversation about the place of evil in society and how punishment fits into a world in which everyone is struggling to stay afloat.

There’s also the inescapable technological side of Cloud that permanently hangs over the film. A community forms online around Yoshii’s practices and starts banding together to condemn them, which begins to approach a mob mentality with a social justice element. This further escalates into a discussion on anonymity, emphasized through the use of physical masks and digital identification, such as Yoshii’s handle, Ratel—another clear metaphor subtly placed within the film's context. No stranger to navigating the digital landscape, Kurosawa’s physical manifestations of online behaviour and dynamics are what make the stakes for Yoshii impossible to ignore. Something is slightly off about how people behave online versus in person, but it’s accentuated in how Kurosawa typically writes his characters with a sedated demeanour. You can rarely tell what someone is thinking, making that unknown quality a benefit to a film centred around people whose lives are ruined and made through online interactions. However, the more aggressive the interaction, the more obvious the emotions.

Cloud is a film that ultimately warrants multiple viewings to unpack its final act. The shift to an action film brings with it an impressive handling of patience that rewards viewers for not craving the gunshot but instead being satisfied by the motivation. A pulse-pounding thriller at times that can suddenly turn hilarious or merely suck the air out of the room, Kurosawa’s handling of tone provides texture to his thematic ambitions. Providing an intricate web of characters that have all become ensnared by Yoshii’s financial aspirations, Kurosawa’s dive into the degradation of humanity in a digital age is a poignant tale told with unwavering resolve. Situated among other films that have explored the moral complexity of revenge, Cloud stands among the best of them.