Widower haunted by his burger-eating comedian wife in 'Till Death Do Us Part?'

Japanese audiences love to cry — hence the decades-long stream of films featuring the terminally ill. The current outpouring, however, seems to be a byproduct of Japan's aging society and improved standards of medical care.

Back in the day, movies here were seldom devoted to one character's long, losing fight with a dreaded disease — be it cancer or Alzheimer's. Now, however, that sort of struggle has become all too common in real life, and something of a formula on screen.

In his new drama "Fufu Fufu Nikki" ("Till Death Do Us What?"), Koji Maeda turns that formula on its head, much as he did in his 2011 feature debut "Konzen Tokkyu" ("Cannonball Wedlock"), a romantic comedy whose mismatched pair are a narcissistic beauty (Yuriko Yoshitaka) and a doughy-bodied baker (Kenta Hamano). Though last on her list of boyfriends, the baker possesses a baffling self-confidence. That is, he is the opposite of the usual socially awkward hero in Japanese rom-coms.

In "Till Death Do Us What?" the comically quarreling couple are Kota (Kuranosuke Sasaki), an aspiring writer who has yet to publish his first book despite a more than a decade of trying, and Yoko (Hiromi Nagasaku), his friend of 17 years, who becomes his wife at age 37. A force of nature, who likes her beer and burgers, Yoko pushes the wishy-washy Kota to overcome repeated disappointments and turn his dream into reality.

Then, shortly after the wedding and the happy discovery of her pregnancy, Yoko learns that she has terminal colon cancer.

She gives birth to a boy and squeezes out what happiness she can from her remaining days, but it all ends too soon. After her death, an inspired Kota begins a blog about their life together and, miracle of miracles, it interests a publisher. His literary and personal troubles are far from over, however.

All of this sounds like a typical Japanese medical melodrama, with one big twist: Yoko's ghost appears to Kota soon after her death, looking as three-dimensionally solid (and as sloppily dressed) as she did in life. And she is still as outspoken and needling as ever.

Comic ghosts are hardly new — Cary Grant and Constance Bennett played them in the 1937 comedy "Topper" — but Nagasaku's spectral Yoko is funny, touching and a shade or two chilling. She has to contend with both the limitations of her between-two-worlds state — only Kota can see and hear her — and Kota's reluctance to believe in her existence. (He keeps insisting she is a figment of his imagination.) This is the source of gags, but also pathos.

She's there for him, but, as she reminds him with piercing sincerity, not forever.

Nagasaku has the instincts and qualities of a born comedian, including an ageless face capable of assuming any and all expressions with impeccable timing. But there are layers within layers to her portrayal of Yoko: from an unblinking honesty to unfeigned embarrassment at her artificial intestines.

Veteran supporting actor Sasaki is her perfect foil. Though in tune to Nagasaku's comic rhythms, he carves out his own persona as Kota: stubborn and a bit slow on the uptake, but loyal, good-natured and true to his own uncertain muse. He also has most of the necessaries required for a grueling career as a freelance writer, with his roach-like persistence and the look of interest he feigns for his interview subjects.

I know the film's big message is that "love conquers all" — even the Grim Reaper — but as a grizzled freelancer myself, my takeaway was a bit different: It's long past time to take that novel out of the drawer.