Hirokazu Kore-eda is one of the few active filmmakers whose byline alone elicits a torrent of anticipation and curiosity all around the globe. Having cemented his reputation as one of the foremost purveyors of humanist cinema — as well as Ozu’s spiritual heir — the Japanese master has returned to Cannes for the first time since taking home the big prize in 2018. He does so with yet another life-affirming drama centered around a ragtag group of misfits that take refuge in each other’s company, much like his Palme d’Or-winning Shoplifters.
In more ways than one, Broker plays like a Kore-eda greatest hits album; once again juggling themes of belonging, child abandonment, and makeshift families while broaching socioeconomic issues with warmth, wit, and delicacy. If you’re already acquainted with his work, you might have seen earlier sketches of many characters and story beats here, to the point that one can feel inclined to dismiss the whole thing altogether as an uninspired retreat built around recycled ideas. Fortunately, it’s easy to bank on a filmmaker of Kore-eda’s caliber and finesse to eschew redundancy even when charting familiar territory. Perhaps the biggest novelty lies in the change of geographical setting, with the director decamping from his usual stomping grounds en route to South Korea, where he’s joined by an All-Star ensemble cast spearheaded by Song Kang-ho, who was recently seen as the loveable patriarch in Parasite.
The film opens with So-young (k-pop star Lee Ji Eun), a distraught young woman who abandons her newborn son at a deposit box found at a local church that functions as a sort of anonymous drop-off point for unwanted babies. This legal loophole is exploited by one of the church employees (Gang Dong-won) and a cunning laundry shop owner (Song), who jointly run a shady criminal scheme that involves erasing proof, snatching the baby for themselves, and offering it for sale in the adoption black market for a hefty sum of money.
Things take a sudden turn when So-young has a change of heart and eventually decides to come back for her baby, only to realize he’s nowhere to be found in any legal listing. This moral ambiguity and conflicting compassion cuts to the very heart of the film, much more so when she ultimately opts to go along with the brokers’ hustle, joining their impromptu road trip in search of a caring home for her baby — inadvertently forging a surrogate family along the way while two detectives (Bae Doona and Lee Joo-young) tail them and try to catch them red-handed.
Only a director with Kore-eda’s sensibilities could make a film about child traffickers without a trace of contempt, let alone one that makes you actively root for them. But these are not your usual type of good-for-nothing crooks — they’re caring, considerate, and ultimately big-hearted individuals. Much like in Shoplifters, one of the biggest virtues of the film is that it remains non-judgmental about its characters, far more interested in diagnosing society’s ailments and acknowledging the moral pickles and existential dilemmas that dictate it rather than pontificating about any of their wrongdoings.
In a year where the issue of abortion has been such a heated topic of discussion in North America, it’s tempting to read between the lines and hurriedly jump to conclusions here. But to misconstrue Broker as strictly pro-choice or pro-life would be thoroughly shortsighted and missing the point altogether. If anything, the film is only overtly critical when it comes to the harsh adoption laws in South Korea, casting an unwavering eye on the flawed system that pushes women to make complicated choices only to be criticized for it all the same and that lines up desperate couples in a long-drawn-out listing process — thus enabling the real-life baby box phenomenon to thrive.
Though Kore-eda’s films often allow their characters transcendent self-discoveries and redemption, providing clear-cut answers or heavy-handed platitudes has never been one of his calling cards. Broker uses a morally-sticky set-up as a baseline for its poignant exploration of parenthood, regret and forgiveness — grappling with lofty ideas about non-nuclear families while suggesting that bonds can be forged in the unlikeliest of places.
One of the director’s personal trademarks has been to distill life to its essence and find poetry in the quotidian routines of everyday life in a way that refuses to parlay into a conventional narrative progression. He’s always been at his very best when he renders synopses useless as the importance of the raw story dwindles and quiet introspection takes over — even if those artistic underpinnings might, paradoxically, also be the reason why he’s yet to be canonized by the Anglo-American press to the extent that his towering legacy calls for.
The Japanese has always had a knack for allowing the right moments to linger; giving the characters some extra breathing room where a less patient director would have long cut away to the next scene. Despite being his most conventionally plot-driven film to date, Broker conceals plenty of quietly devastating moments that benefit from a few extra seconds of reflection. The film runs the gamut from heartrending to jovial to cloying, bridging the gap between Kore-eda’s gritty realism and old-fashioned romanticism while arguably treading closer to crowd-pleasing syrupy than ever before. This seems to be hastily course-corrected with a final bittersweet note that harkens back to previous entries in his catalog like Maborosi, After Life or Nobody Knows — if not quite matching the pathos and gravitas that make those three so emotionally resonant.
One can’t help but feel that the Japanese director is treading on eggshells here — perhaps as a byproduct of the language barrier — delivering a sanitized version of the nuanced and meditative sensitivity that we have grown to expect with every project bearing his name. To call it a shift from artist to entertainer would undermine both the artistic merits of Broker and the entertainment value of the rest of his brilliant output. Notwithstanding its few shortcomings, everyone involved in this production is so talented that it’s easy to brush off any gripes you may have with it once the credits roll. And make no mistake, even when kept on a short leash, Kore-eda is capable of making an infinitely more insightful and gentler movie than 99% of the focus-tested melodramas that will be heading to theaters this year.
Broker premiered at the 2022 Cannes Film Festival and has been acquired by NEON for North American release.
