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"The piano doesn't sustain sound. Left alone, the sound attenuates and disappears. Perpetual sound is... essentially the opposite of piano, because the notes never fade. I suppose in literary terms, it would be like a metaphor for eternity."

In confronting his (and our) mortality, Ryuichi Sakamoto meditates on the perpetuity of music that overlays the finality to his existence.

"Music... requires peace."

Sakamoto finds a special purity in the trees as he wanders the forest, in the ice caves as he peers under glaciers, in a Tsunami-surviving piano left "retuned by nature", absorbing the world as his soundstage.

Such is an artist's mind.

Ryuichi Sakamoto has gone a long way in his career and his development from the very synthetic pop music of the Yellow Magic Orchestra in his early days to his film scores for Bertolucci and Inarritu and to his compositions today which are very rich yet subtle, often closer to ambient than traditional composed music. Over time, he has become increasingly concerned about humanity's nuclear and environmental desasters and got involved in protest actions concerning Fukushima, where he gave a public concert on a salvaged piano having survived the Tsunami. The most fascinating part for me dealt with Sakamoto's search for the sounds of objects or of nature, of wind and water. On his travels he would record such sounds, trying to integrate or meld them with his compositions using sythesizers or his piano, creating beautiful soundscapes. He is constantly seeking to expand his concept of music, working with joy and humour and a deep craving to better grasp the aural nature of our world.

Reviewed by FilmMining101: With the recent passing of Ryuichi Sakamoto, it feels appropriately for "Coda", a documentary detailing the creative process behind one of the most influential music composers of all time to re-emerge.

Opening up with Sakamoto detailing stoically his throat cancer diagnosis, director Stephen Nomura Schimble does not utilize melodramatic devices and neither he emotionally manipulates the tone to gain the audience's sympathy. Instead he uses wisely the 90 minute running time to unpack the motivation behind this extraordinary individual's persistence to continue his creative journey amidst a variety of events (e.g., the 2011 Japanese tsunami, the attack of the World Trading Centre) and personal activistic beliefs.

Lacking an emphasis on musical terms or connotations that might drive those unaffiliated with film scoring and music away, the camera presents an intimate portrait of a gentle soul. In one of the most memorable moments, Sakamoto seeks to record the sounds of nature and their cathartic power they bear once they are incorporated to one of the many ideas he has. Intercut by mini live performances that feature beautiful piano pieces which range from melancholic to hopeful, "Coda" never outstays its welcome nor loses its primary creative focus.

Witnessing Sakamoto experiencing for the first time novel musical landscapes through the employment of unorthodox approaches (e.g., a mug dragged across a drum plate) or by capitalizing on the soothing symphony that Greenland's melted snow can offer, demonstrates how this unique personality perceives the world, its interactions with us and most importantly, with his ears. A segment about how we conform the piano to sound the way we want it to is delightful, emphasizing "wabi sabi" concepts which are missed from the (current) Western point of view.

Rightfully an icon for many reasons and backed up by a vast work catalogue of films, videogames, concerts and his own personal albums, glimpses of a young Sakamoto in the 80s are an appropriate memento of how this sound absorbing master managed to stay intact as the world around him changed (for the better or worse); his personality seems to be an ideal fit for a documentary that narratively showcases the pipeline of musical composition less through the glorified lens of music worship and more through a soul reflecting activity which aims to fulfill one's creative desires and esoteric satisfaction. Just like Sakamoto behaved and interacted with others, "Coda" embraces the presentation of its thematic context the same way; with humility and appreciation.

Ryuichi Sakamoto almost needs no introduction, but Stephen Nomura Schible's 2017 tribute to the Japanese composer confines itself to the period 2011-2017, following the Fukushima Nuclear Accident in 2011 which awakened his environmental activism and a cancer diagnosis he received around the same time. Although the film does give a potted history of Sakamoto's long and illustrious career, first as a member of electro-pop pioneers Yellow Magic Orchestra, and then as a solo and collaborative recording artist, 'Coda' is more a reflection on the difficult and transformative period in which the artist rebuilds his career while actually all the time wrestling with a sense of his own mortality. It's a fascinating glimpse into his artistic life at the time rather than anything to do with his personal life. The musical culmination of the period was the fine electro acoustic and ambient album 'Async' also released in 2017.

There isn't a lot of speaking in 'Coda', as the film maker does his work and lets the sounds and music do most of the talking. At times, Sakamoto appears flustered and awkward, yet remains interesting and thoughtful, willing to adapt to shine a lot on a whole 'artistic process'. Strangely, I think the film works best in the way it plods. Other reviewers have commented 'Coda' was a 'missed opportunity' for doing a great retrospective on the artist. I think that will surely come, particularly after Sakamoto's recent passing on 28th March this year, although I don't envy the film maker who takes that particular task on, as his career is immense and multi-faceted. Surely better to narrow the focus and hone in on certain aspects of the artist's work, which is I think what Schible has done?

Without being earth-shattering, 'Coda' is a sympathetic portrayal of Sakamoto as contemporary artist. The bits focusing on his love of film and books are what I'll take most from the film, perhaps best illustrated in the songs 'Andante' and 'Solari' which are also both on 'Async' (Andrei Tarkovsky's 1972 film 'Solaris' was one of his favourites, Russian composer' Eduard Artemyev's soundtrack influenced a lot by Bach which Sakamoto often incorporates into his music).

The parts showing Sakamoto pottering around with 'found' sounds are very endearing, rainfall, crisp forest undergrowth, even the bashing of dumped rubbish parts to create percussion, along with more conventional instruments like the ancient Japanese Shamisen (like a lute), wind bowls and bowed cymbols, and mustn't forget the 'Tsunami' Piano ("retuned" from nature after the earthquake of 2011), all of which Sakamoto ingeniously incorporates into his electro acoustic music produced in his home studio in New York where he lived for many years.

By throwing himself into his work during cancer remission Ryuichi Sakamoto was able to tap into a well of creativity, something he was able to maintain until this year when sadly he passed away after a second bout of cancer. He will be sorely missed.

In the wake of the Fukushima disaster and the tsunami that followed, Ryuichi Sakamoto tracks down a piano that although a little water damaged, survived. "I felt as though I was playing the corpse of a piano that drowned". He's against nuclear, not just weapons, but power. That's not something we hear about much in the U. K., but then we've not had a meltdown on home turf. It may seem like a random start, but it's context and that's what Coda does well, paints a picture of events and influences that Sakamoto draws on. There's plenty of piano here, but the two big topics are his love and admiration of nature and is his cancer diagnosis that's now driving him to continue creating. Be it film scoring or a new record, one that was put on hold with the diagnosis. He knows the clock is ticking and wants to leave behind "meaningful work". Sadly the clock has stopped now, which makes watching this a little mournful. Especially with the candid shots of him taking medication and brushing his teeth. It's magical watching him experiment though. Recording foley sounds of nature out in forests. Matching them with strings in the studio, a common theme of nature and man working with and against each other. Leafing through Tarkovsky photo books, recording the rain hitting windows, standing outside with a bucket on his head. When he smiles at what he's creating, it's emotional. Pure joy. Along with the present day circa 2017, there's more of that context, with his 80s kitsch pop star phase and of course the famous 'Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence', from the film that I didn't realise he also starred in. He has quite a list of credits, both as actor and composer. It's his story in his voice. Traveling the world, a love letter to nature and its influence. That's what Coda tries to capture. A career perspective, in his final chapter.