Plan 75 presents an all-too-real future for Japan's senior citizens.
In simple terms, the Japanese government proposes a euthanasia plan for seniors who are 75 or older. They are gifted with 100,000 yen to spend as they like and can opt to be cremated and have their ashes mingled with the ashes of other deceased citizens. The "options," such as they are, are presented by a handsome, cheerful salesman (an outstanding Hayato Isomura), hired obviously to encourage seniors to apply right away before they change their minds. But things almost come to a standstill when one of the "customers" ends up being the salesman's black sheep uncle, who he hasn't seen for over 20 years. This story thread is incredibly realistic and sad and moving.
Much of the film hangs its weighty topic on the sturdy shoulders of Chieko Basho, one of Japan's finest actresses. "Michi," 78, still works as a motel maid, along with several colleagues, until they are summarily dismissed (without being told the blatant truth: they're too old). Soon Michi learns that her old apartment building will be demolished. (Seeing the interior of the apartment is essential for those fantasizing about living in Japan so they can understand the harsh reality of how many people still live.) This is followed by the death of her friend. Though Michi tries to get a new job and a new apartment, she learns (as we all will) that no one wants to give such an opportunity to an elderly person.
Michi does manage to secure a job, standing on a busy street at night, wearing a workman's coat studded with red reflectors, standing guard, overlooking some kind of construction project. At first I kept asking myself, "Why are they showing the back of some man working on the street at night?" It takes a bit to realize that it's Michi's back.
At her wit's end, Michi decides to apply for Plan 75. To ease her over into the next world, she has several phone conversations (15 minutes max) and one secret meeting with a sympathetic young female staff member (Yuumi Kawai, who almost steals the whole movie). The phone conversations are deeply moving; we learn that Michi's first marriage was arranged, that she desperately wanted to escape, and that her only child was dead upon delivery. It's easy to see how her life became what it is (living alone, her only friends being older women like her, no family), and it's clear to see what her life will become unless she makes a decision.
Plan 75 also adds one more story thread, featuring young Filipina actress Stefanie Arianne. Like many young Filipinas in Japan, "Maria" is a caregiver/nurse in a senior citizen facility. She must be super cheerful and speak great Japanese. Also, like many young Filipinas in Japan, she must send all her money home to care for her family: in her case, a husband and a very sick daughter.
A friend alerts her to a higher-paying job, caring for seniors and "working for the government." This, Maria learns, is "Plan 75," where she must empty the pockets of the dead, remove their spectacles, shoes, belts, and then, later, empty all wallets and purses. She does this alongside an older Japanese man (who most likely will be signing up for Plan 75 himself one day soon). In the two simple scenes that their interaction occurs, one can sense the shocking reality of the end of life. For Maria, she has no choice; she must do something to earn money to save her child.
The lives of the three main characters intersect at some point, but not all of them together at the same time. How each story resolves, I will leave for you to find out.
Cinematography, acting, screenplay and score all combine to make a deeply moving film. Kudos to Chie Hayakawa and Jason Gray for the story, to Chie for the screenplay, and to Chie for directing. This is a rare Japanese movie that avoids so many of the cliches I have seen constantly, which include hysterical screaming, forced crying, people running and people dying in hospitals.
Plan 75 makes it clear that in the dystopian future that awaits us all, it could well become a reality.
In simple terms, the Japanese government proposes a euthanasia plan for seniors who are 75 or older. They are gifted with 100,000 yen to spend as they like and can opt to be cremated and have their ashes mingled with the ashes of other deceased citizens. The "options," such as they are, are presented by a handsome, cheerful salesman (an outstanding Hayato Isomura), hired obviously to encourage seniors to apply right away before they change their minds. But things almost come to a standstill when one of the "customers" ends up being the salesman's black sheep uncle, who he hasn't seen for over 20 years. This story thread is incredibly realistic and sad and moving.
Much of the film hangs its weighty topic on the sturdy shoulders of Chieko Basho, one of Japan's finest actresses. "Michi," 78, still works as a motel maid, along with several colleagues, until they are summarily dismissed (without being told the blatant truth: they're too old). Soon Michi learns that her old apartment building will be demolished. (Seeing the interior of the apartment is essential for those fantasizing about living in Japan so they can understand the harsh reality of how many people still live.) This is followed by the death of her friend. Though Michi tries to get a new job and a new apartment, she learns (as we all will) that no one wants to give such an opportunity to an elderly person.
Michi does manage to secure a job, standing on a busy street at night, wearing a workman's coat studded with red reflectors, standing guard, overlooking some kind of construction project. At first I kept asking myself, "Why are they showing the back of some man working on the street at night?" It takes a bit to realize that it's Michi's back.
At her wit's end, Michi decides to apply for Plan 75. To ease her over into the next world, she has several phone conversations (15 minutes max) and one secret meeting with a sympathetic young female staff member (Yuumi Kawai, who almost steals the whole movie). The phone conversations are deeply moving; we learn that Michi's first marriage was arranged, that she desperately wanted to escape, and that her only child was dead upon delivery. It's easy to see how her life became what it is (living alone, her only friends being older women like her, no family), and it's clear to see what her life will become unless she makes a decision.
Plan 75 also adds one more story thread, featuring young Filipina actress Stefanie Arianne. Like many young Filipinas in Japan, "Maria" is a caregiver/nurse in a senior citizen facility. She must be super cheerful and speak great Japanese. Also, like many young Filipinas in Japan, she must send all her money home to care for her family: in her case, a husband and a very sick daughter.
A friend alerts her to a higher-paying job, caring for seniors and "working for the government." This, Maria learns, is "Plan 75," where she must empty the pockets of the dead, remove their spectacles, shoes, belts, and then, later, empty all wallets and purses. She does this alongside an older Japanese man (who most likely will be signing up for Plan 75 himself one day soon). In the two simple scenes that their interaction occurs, one can sense the shocking reality of the end of life. For Maria, she has no choice; she must do something to earn money to save her child.
The lives of the three main characters intersect at some point, but not all of them together at the same time. How each story resolves, I will leave for you to find out.
Cinematography, acting, screenplay and score all combine to make a deeply moving film. Kudos to Chie Hayakawa and Jason Gray for the story, to Chie for the screenplay, and to Chie for directing. This is a rare Japanese movie that avoids so many of the cliches I have seen constantly, which include hysterical screaming, forced crying, people running and people dying in hospitals.
Plan 75 makes it clear that in the dystopian future that awaits us all, it could well become a reality.