Most Japanese films set all or mostly in foreign climes look like tourist promotional videos, with every iconic historical site or beauty spot dutifully and obviously noted. Otherwise, the location serves as a stylish/exotic backdrop for an exclusively Japanese drama, with the natives serving only as extras or walk-ons.
Story-wise, Kitagawa Eriko’s I Have to Buy New Shoes (Atarashii Kutsu wo Kawanakucha) is in this Japan-centric line: A lonely middle-aged Japanese expat in Paris, Aoi (Nakayama Miho), meets a young Japanese photographer, Sen (Mukai Osamu), and, after guiding him around the city, ends up having a brief affair with him. Amanda Plummer makes an appearance as the expat’s eccentric-old-lady neighbor, but otherwise the film uses the locals as color, not fleshed-out characters.
In terms of mood, sensibility and artistry, however, the film is in a higher, distinctly different class. First, Nakayama Miho is not the usual Japanese star flown in for a hurried week-long shoot, but a resident of Paris since 2003 who on camera looks thoroughly at home in both the city and the language. She also convincingly expresses Aoi’s longing for things Japanese (especially if they are as attractively packaged as Sen) and, as a freelance writer who has made Parisian shops her subject, her native-like knowledge of her adopted home.
Mukai is similarly natural as Sen, who has been dragged to Paris by his self-involved younger sister (Kiritani Mirei) and then abandoned there when she impulsively rushes off to reconnect with an old flame (Ayano Go). He is thoroughly lost until he encounters Aoi in an artfully choreographed scene that features comic stumbles, formal apologies and for Aoi, a broken heel. She offers to show him to his hotel and as they walk through some of the more famous streets of Paris, Sen starts to appreciate his new environment -- and his volunteer guide.
Despite the difference in their ages, there is nothing forced about the sexual frisson that develops between them. Though aware of the sexual power his youth and looks confer, Sen never condescends to Aoi; instead he is wise enough to appreciate her maturity and experience, more like the protagonist of a French May-September romance than a typical ikemen (“pretty boy”) idol.
Also, Kitagawa, working with producer Iwai Shunji and cameraman Kanbe Chigi, brings a fresh, flawless eye to the beauties of her setting, making even the Eiffel Tower look new. Yes, hers is a quietly glamorous Paris you may not recognize while rushing for the Metro on a rainy February morning. But you can, like Aoi and Sen, see it in the right season, the right light and, of course, with the right person.
And if you are a woman around Aoi’s age (or knows one who is or has been), it is not hard to sympathize with her interest in Sen, her delight when he reciprocates – and her bittersweet feelings of longing and resignation when he leaves. New shoes may not be a substitute for love, but Aoi will make do – and move on.