Cottontail

This film delivers a powerful and poignant exploration of love, acceptance, and the pain of family loss. I feel completely overwhelmed! Following the passing of his wife, Kenzaburo (Lily Franky) and his son Toshi (Ryô Nishikido) receive an astonishing letter from the local temple's abbot. In it, Akiko, their beloved wife and mother, requests that her ashes be scattered at her cherished childhood spot - Lake Windermere in England. Initially, father and son clash over how to proceed with this unexpected wish. However, they, along with Toshi's wife Satsuki and their young daughter Emi, ultimately embark on a journey from Tokyo to England to honor Akiko's last request.

Director Patrick Dickinson skillfully guides us through Akiko's memories on this path toward healing and understanding!

The acting and the cinematography were both stunning, capturing a whirlwind of emotions beautifully!

Excellent direction by Patrick Dickinson and perfectly acted by all concerned.. The cast and characters have been well selected and the transformation from the flashback earlier depicted young couple to them as an older couple is visually fully believable... A gentle and emotive study of the human condition and because of the gentle pace of the dialogue, the necessary use of sub titles did not detract at all and the Japanese language was interspersed with periods of English language anyhow. A thoughtful movie well worth the time taken to watch. I note that Dickinson has directed mainly 'TV series'. I hope he turns his hand to more full time movies.

In Tokyo, Kenzaburo is struggling after his wife suffered through dementia and died. Her last wish is for the family to scatter her ashes at Lake Windermere, the home of Beatrix Potter where she wrote the stories of Peter Rabbit. Her mother had read her the stories, but she was never able to get her family to go there. Kenzaburo and his estranged son Toshi with his young family travel to England.

This is a nice little touching family drama from Japan with Ciarán Hinds and his real-life daughter popping up for the middle part. When the Hinds show up, I thought maybe they would stay for a road movie. The last act does pack quite a powerful punch especially in the flashbacks. The middle part does stick out a little and Kenzaburo's rush gets a bit annoying. All in all, this holds together in an emotional punch.

I wasn't sure what to expect from this one. It got a pretty high rating but that was from a relatively low number of raters. I'm always suspicious when that occurs. However, this was a pleasant surprise.

It's a very slow movie, or nuanced, as they say in the business. Some might find this boring, but you just have to stick with it.

As described, it's about a Japanese gentleman whose wife has recently died. She leaves instructions that she wants her ashes scattered in Lake Windemerre, in England. So he travels there with his son and daughter-in-law and his grandchild.

Along the way, there's a fair amount of tension, seething under the surface. Slowly, the father and son come to terms with their relationship

I only have one minor complaint about the film. I watched it on Hoopla which listed it as English language. False. It's 99% Japanese with a few times English is spoken. I guess it's more of a beef with Hoopla than the filmmakers.

Overall, it's a beautiful crafted film, fans of indie flicks will surely enjoy. .

Always tell your loved ones you love them. Say it every day, every moment you can. Do the things you dream of doing together, do it stubbornly while you still can because time rushes forward without mercy.

The film is a slow, meditative unravelling of grief, love, and memory. It doesn't raise its voice. Instead, it whispers straight to your soul. It is achingly beautiful in its restraint, choosing quiet glances, pauses, and silences over exposition. And yet, every unsaid word carries the weight of oceans. What makes Cottontail so emotionally powerful is how it treats sorrow: not as an event, but as a presence. Like a hole in the heart that can never be refilled only re-shaped. A grieving husband travels from Japan to England to honour his late wife's wish to have her ashes scattered in a place deeply tied to their love story. This cross-cultural pilgrimage becomes more than a physical journey, an intimate exploration of how we carry love and loss, and how healing never comes in the form we expect.

The minimal dialogue is one of the film's greatest strengths. It brilliantly trusts the viewer to feel, to notice the tremble in a voice, the hesitation in a step, the ache behind a character's silence. In its simplicity, Cottontail reveals profound emotional layers; grief laced with guilt, affection tangled with regret, and moments of beauty tucked inside unbearable sorrow. The cinematography is gentle and natural, echoing the emotional stillness of the characters, while the score haunts softly in the background like a fading memory. Every frame feels purposeful and unforced like a lingering memory that refuses to fade.

This is not a film about grand gestures, but about the small ones: the way someone holds a photograph, the quiet reverence of a final goodbye. It's a tender reminder to hold close what matters, to speak love while we still can, and to let grief walk beside us rather than try to outrun it. Cottontail doesn't shout. It doesn't demand. It's the silence between the notes. It gently breaks your heart and yet somehow, simultaneously, begins to mend it.