Interview: Yukinori Makabe on his tender drama Sinsin and the Mouse
Returning to the Glasgow Film Festival with his latest feature, Sinsin and the Mouse, Yukinori Makabe delivers a tender, beautifully told drama about loss and the process of coming to terms with it. In contrast to his previous film, Love, Life and Goldfish, a musical drama, Sinsin and the Mouse feels like a clear evolution in his craft, resulting in an emotionally charged and deeply affecting work.
Synopsis: We follow Chizumi Mitsuko (Yukino Kishii), who sacrificed everything to care for her sick mother and became her full-time carer. When her mother dies, Chizumi’s life is thrown into turmoil. So, when a friend invites her to Teipai, she accepts. There, she meets a young man named Shingo Tagawa (Tseng Jing-hua), known as Sinsin, and the two form a tentative friendship that may help Chizumi come to terms with her grief.
In this exclusive interview, our writer, Robert Ewing, asked Yukinori Makabe after its World Premiere at the 2026 Glasgow Film Festival. We discussed what real-life inspiration inspired the film, what it was like working with Yukino Kishii, the use of the 4:3 aspect ratio and much more.
TPM: The film beautifully captures how grief can make people feel small and insignificant yet also shows how they can slowly rediscover joy and reconnect with life. Was there a personal experience you drew from when shaping this story, and what compelled you to explore these themes on screen?
Yukinori Makabe: This film is based on a short story by Banana Yoshimoto. I planned the project in 2022, when the world was still in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic. Ultimately, I strongly felt that human connection is what heals sadness, and that led me to create this film.
Yukino Kishii delivers a truly stellar performance. What was the experience of working with her, and how did you manage to draw out such raw, intimate moments, even in something as simple as watching her eat toast?
Yukinori Makabe: Ever since I read the original novel, Yukino Kishii was the only person I could imagine in the role. I generally don’t give her specific directions. When she entered the set, I let her act based on what she felt. I think my job was to shoot that on film without missing a single detail.
Speaking of which, the scene where she eats toast has really stayed with me; it’s such a quietly powerful moment. Do you think that a sense of emptiness can heighten or distort our physical senses, not just our emotional ones?
Yukinori Makabe: I think so. The mind and body are connected. There are many scenes where Chizumi walks, and her way of walking is different when her mother is around compared to when she’s gone. I hope audiences will notice those physical expressions as well.
The chemistry between Yukino Kishii and Tseng Jing-hua is genuinely magical; you believe every beat of their growing relationship. What was the process like working with them to shape these performances and capture that authenticity on screen?
Yukinori Makabe: They hadn’t seen each other at all until the time of filming. Of course, there were no rehearsals either. It was as if we were filming a documentary—I think they met and naturally grew closer over time.
The film features a lot of dialogue that’s both metaphorical and deeply poignant. Were there any challenges in capturing the intricacies of that writing and translating it so naturally on screen?
Yukinori Makabe: It was a challenging but rewarding process. In contrast to my previous works, where the dialogue directly expressed the characters’ feelings, in this film, the characters’ feelings are sometimes conveyed through the underlying meaning of the dialogue. This meant that rather than focusing on the visual composition, the most important aspect was how to shoot the two actors’ performances, especially their facial expressions.
In contrast to your previous film, as well as Sinsin and the Mouse, this one opens with, and often leans on, scenes with very little dialogue, yet we still understand everything that’s unfolding. What was it like trying to convey so much story and emotion with so few words?
Yukinori Makabe: Actually, when we held test screenings in Japan, some people suggested that we should include a monologue. However, when we held test screenings in Taiwan, no one made that suggestion. In fact, they said a monologue wasn’t necessary. That’s when I realised once again that film transcends national borders and allows for free interpretation, just as when people view a single painting in an art museum, and each creates their own story.
The cinematography is genuinely breathtaking. What was your collaboration like with Wayne Lo, and could you give a brief overview of how you used the 4:3 aspect ratio to so perfectly reinforce the film’s themes?
Yukinori Makabe: Regarding the 4:3 aspect ratio, there are two aspects: expressing the characters’ emotions and effectively conveying sound. Regarding sound, I wanted to create a connection with the film’s theme by having sounds originate from unseen locations outside the screen. This was my first collaboration with a non-Japanese cinematographer, and I imagine it was quite challenging for him. As I mentioned earlier, my approach is to first let the cast act freely and then decide everything from there. Therefore, the cuts and camera movements are decided on set. I think the biggest common language between me and the cinematographer was matching the actors’ performances.
The film moves between past and present, yet it never becomes confusing. How did you find the right balance, giving just enough context for the audience to understand the shift in time without ever needing to spell it out?
Yukinori Makabe: This is very difficult to explain in words, but I think I prioritised something like the comfort and pleasantness of the editing. More than whether people understood or didn’t understand up to a certain point. My feeling is that if the editing feels smooth, the film probably isn’t too difficult.
The trip to Taipei becomes a real turning point, the catalyst for Chizumi to finally begin moving on from her mother. Do you think that, when people experience loss, stepping outside our everyday reality can genuinely help us heal, or is it more of a temporary escape than a lasting solution?
Yukinori Makabe: The grief of losing someone will never fade, but neither will the new encounters and memories I’ve made. As I was making this film, I came to realise that struggling on like this is what makes life beautiful.
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