The Moon Review

As a writer, laying the groundwork for a review’s introduction is an uphill battle. I contemplate my approach: should I connect the film to an aspect of my own lived experience, or should I provide informative, factual context that links it to a key element of the film? I devote much of my time to crafting the introduction.

The Moon opens with Yoko Dojima (Rie Miyazawa), our protagonist, struggling with writer’s block. There are innumerable reasons for Yoko’s struggle, yet the film is about more than just a writer overcoming mental barriers to her work. It also serves as a commentary on the care system and life itself. The Moon had the potential to be incredible, but sadly, it misses the mark.

As mentioned, Yoko Dojima’s primary source of income is writing. However, struggling with writer’s block, she takes a job at a care home for disabled individuals, hidden deep within the forest. Dark secrets lurk in the shadows, waiting to be uncovered—particularly the abuse perpetrated by some staff members against the residents.

Despite this, Sato (Hayato Isomura), a fellow carer, brings empathy and compassion to his work. Yoko’s life is thrown into turmoil when she discovers she is pregnant, while Sato begins to reveal a more unsettling side, expressing vitriol toward his values and the residents.

The Moon runs a staggering 2 hours and 24 minutes—and I do mean staggering, as every minute is felt throughout its runtime. Abuse is not the primary focus of the first half; instead, the film explores the ramifications of Yoko’s pregnancy, especially given that she has already lost a child. Her writer’s block could be tied to the grief she still carries, but when she discovers she is pregnant again, paranoia sets in—expertly conveyed by Rie Miyazawa.

Yoko begins to question: What if the child is disabled? Does she want to endure the pain of giving birth, forming a connection, only to risk losing the child again? She doesn’t want to suffer, nor does she want the child to suffer. Should she get an abortion? This one throughline could have been a film in itself, separate from the care home abuse and Sato’s slow descent into madness.

Juggling three major plotlines is a near-impossible task, and The Moon struggles to transition between them in an engaging way. As the second half approaches, the film shifts its focus to Sato and his growing darkness. He reveals to Yoko his heinous plan for the residents, drawing a disturbing parallel between his views and Yoko’s own contemplation of abortion if the child is disabled. As the scene unfolds, Sato suddenly transforms into Yoko herself. In a truly powerful moment, Yoko confronts a version of herself—her inner demon personified.

Hayato Isomura is deeply unnerving as the disturbed Sato, a man who believes that those without souls are a burden on society. He proclaims, “We need to cut what’s unnecessary and inefficient to raise a productive society.” Given his role in caring for disabled individuals, it becomes disturbingly clear that he views those who cannot care for themselves as expendable. It is a horrifying ideology, and as the film nears its conclusion, Sato enacts his plan to emotionally devastating effect.

The Moon is narratively overstuffed, struggling to remain captivating until the excess is stripped away—revealing the darkness that lingers just out of sight but is undeniably present.

★★★

The Japan Foundation Touring Film Programme 2025 takes place in cinemas around the UK from 7 February – 31 March 2025 / Rie Miyazawa, Hayato Isomura, Fumi Nikaido, Joe Odagiri / Dir: Yuya Ishii / 18