One rainy Friday evening a few weeks ago I set out to see
a film called Shiawase No Pan at the
local cinema. I went by myself but as it turned out I was not alone in this.
The screening room was quiet with only a few sporadically placed, single
patrons scattered here and there. This was not the first time I had come across
a film with such bad attendance but in Shiawase No Pan or Bread of Happiness’s
case, the mood it set in the cinema alone fits in nicely with my own discourse
of the piece. Simply put, this is a nice film to watch alone or perhaps with
someone you’re particularly close to. There’s a slight sadness to the film
that lasts throughout but I did not leave this film feeling depressed or even
remotely sad, quite the opposite actually…
There is a childlike simplicity to
this film and everything is tinged with nostalgia of a life that perhaps you,
as the viewer may have never experienced although somehow it gives the impression of a memory. There’s a very good chance that this
feeling is only true for a small percentage but somehow I doubt that. The elements
and stereotypical images of home, whatever home may be, are delicately served
to us through the entirety of the storyline. And you feel sated at its end.
The film tells the story of a
restaurant and bakery situated in the heart of the Hokkaido countryside.
Owned and run by Rie and Sang, a couple with a mutual love of bread and a
desire for happiness, we see the couple live their life from Spring to Winter
entertaining a variety of likely characters. The seasons work well as a form of
pathetic fallacy to aid the introduction of the separate guests that lodge at
Mani Bakery over the course of the film. We start with a young couple who shyly
fall in love during their stay, move on to a young girl who misses the
attention of her distracted father and finally end with an elderly couple. While
the story itself is about the bakery and the gentle couple that lives there; a
lot of the attention focuses on the guests that visit, placing Rie and Sang subtly
into the background. It is because of this technique that we view each problem,
and indeed solution, as the bakery. Our point of view in this film is not from
that of a character but rather from the building itself. All the strife and
heartache that the film offers; feelings of rejection, abandonment and death
we, as the audience, eventually become comfortable with because we have the
four walls, the oven and the ever present smell of bread as a foundation.
Essentially
this film is a social commentary but there are no skillful jabs at contemporary
Japan here, or at least none with biting intent. It is a view of life or
better yet, an advert for life.
Recently, they’ve
been showing the same four or five adverts before every film in my cinema for a
least a year. I know their order well and I know each by heart. While I don’t
usually pay much attention to adverts like this, one has made an impression. It’s
an ad for a book shop known as Book-Off in which a woman is sitting in her
living room, organizing a pile of old books to be sorted for recycling. The
doors are open and we can see the green of the garden and hear the sound of
rain as she piles her treasured possessions on the tatami floor. It is clear
that we are not being sold a single product here but rather an idea, an idea
that is the love of a book, an idea that Book-Off apparently shares.
Now, anyone that’s
seen one or two examples of this knows this to be a common and obvious tactic
for companies who wish to sell their wares. Reach someone emotionally and they’ll
be reaching for their wallets. After watching Shiawase No Pan I couldn’t shake
the feeling that this too was an advert for something. Every inch of this film
is clean cut, including the characters; all the furniture is new and seemingly
freshly assembled and Rie and Sang’s life is ideal. Each character’s singular
appreciation of bread only adds to this idea. When bread is served, and it is
served often, time slows; we are treated to shots of the crust cracking, steam
rising and the sheer satisfaction on every single person’s face.
Perhaps we are
always being sold a fantasy or at least a belief; maybe life’s troubles can’t
be solved by bread alone although after watching this film it certainly gives
you hope. As with all things, there’s a correct a time and a place and if you
ever find yourself stuck indoors on a rainy day, possibly sorting books with
the green of the garden behind you, watch this film and enjoy the advert of
life. 
