'Kyrie': Musical melodrama celebrates youth

Shunji Iwai has had a remarkably diverse career since bursting onto the scene with his 1995 hit film, “Love Letter.” In addition to producing, scripting, editing and scoring his own films and those of others in various combinations, he has made everything from TV dramas to documentaries.

But as seen in “Kyrie,” his latest multilayered musical melodrama, Iwai has also stayed remarkably constant. In both “Love Letter” and “Kyrie,” the protagonists are played by pop stars, with Miho Nakayama starring in the former and the singer-songwriter known as Aina The End in the latter. Also, both films are romantic to their cores, with Iwai’s restless camera probing every emotional tremor.

There are differences, too: Nakayama does not sing on-screen, while Aina The End performs an entire album’s worth of songs (as does pop singer Chara in Iwai’s 1996 film “Swallowtail Butterfly”). And “Kyrie” tests the audience’s patience with a 178-minute runtime, an hour longer than “Love Letter.”

Cutting to the critical chase: If you are a fan of Aina The End’s vocal stylings as Kyrie, which tend to be plaintive, full-throated ballads, you’ll enjoy the film far more than if you find them grating. I was of two minds: I liked the confident, in-charge Kyrie in her later performances more than the rougher, earlier version, who reminded me of the many wailing buskers I’ve walked briskly past.

The story, which traces Kyrie’s tempestuous life over 13 years, unfolds on four different alternating and intersecting tracks. One focuses on Luca, a girl who was orphaned in the Great East Japan Earthquake and finds support from a kindly teacher, Fumi Teraishi (Haru Kuroki).

Another follows Luca as a lonely teenager (Aina The End) in Obihiro, Hokkaido. Though she speaks in whispers, she can sing like an angel. She is befriended by Maori (Suzu Hirose), a classmate whose mom runs a small bar. A rebellious type, Maori dreams of escaping Obihiro and moving to the big city.

We also meet the adult Luca (Aina The End again), who now calls herself “Kyrie.” Homeless and still barely articulate, she is busking on the streets of Tokyo when she is approached by Ikko (Hirose again), a mysterious woman in a blue wig, who offers to be her manager.

Connecting these plot threads is Natsuhiko Shiomi (Hokuto Matsumura), who was engaged to Luca’s older sister. Following her death in the 2011 disaster, he searches for Luca and finds her under Fumi’s protection in Osaka. After child welfare workers spirit the girl away, he manages to stay in off-and-on contact with her, while even becoming Maori’s tutor — all the while feeling guilty for not better protecting Luca and her sister.

There is much more to the over-packed plot, including Kyrie’s quick climb up the music industry ladder while never escaping the streets. She also never makes a splash on social media, which is strange for a story set in the present.

However, “Kyrie” is less a commentary on the dire situation of indie musicians and more an overheated fable about the strength of female friendship and the pure-spirited artistry of the heroine, who stays true to her music with no thought of money or fame.

Similarly, Iwai stays true to his vision of cinema as a heightened celebration of youth in all its perfervid drama, with a swirling visual energy and beauty uniquely his own. And boring logic and drab realism once again take holidays.