“I hope this film brings the audience an awareness of the often-overlooked fragments of beauty in our daily lives,” director Takuya Uchiyama told us about Numb, a story of starting again, presented at the 76th Berlinale.
Japanese director Takuya Uchiyama, at 33, can make anyone wonder about his age. He comes across as a young model: suave, cool and confident. Once a stylist armed with a degree in fashion from Bunka Fashion College, Uchiyama yearned to be behind the camera and, at 23, he debuted as a film director with his film Vanitas in 2016.
Today, he stands in front of the audience at the 76th Berlinale with his film Shibire (Numb), telling a story close to his heart about a young mute boy living in a coastal town in Japan, living with his mother who has a history of working in the nightlife industry.
“I was assisting on movie sets when I realized that I wanted to be behind the camera and tell stories from my perspective, and hence I began to direct my first film, completely self-funded. It was when I won the audience award and then was invited to international film festivals that I realised that there is so much to learn and share,” he said.
Uchiyama chose Niigata, which is also his hometown, to tell this simple yet subtle story of identity, belonging, and the love-hate relationship between mother and son.
“It is loosely based on my own experience as a child, when for some years I could not speak and was going through a tough experience at home, and on my bonding with my mother, but the film is about Daichi, the protagonist.
It is the first script that I wrote in my life, and I have always called it Shibire, thus making the film with a single name, not defining anything but keeping the theme abstract. I wanted to convey his worldview in one word, without judgment,” explains Uchiyama.
In the very first scene, Daichi and his mother are oppressed by his father. The scene is short, but that kind of thing is happening every day. It leaves an impact on the character. “When I say stop, or maybe Daichi said it, I unconsciously lost my voice. Losing your voice doesn’t just mean quitting the act of trembling, but it’s also a moment when you lock up a big part of your soul. So it’s a way of reorganizing as a film. He loses his voice. It’s not only losing trembling and soul but also losing emotion from the soul. Hence, I was trying to capture that in the film at that time.”
According to Uchiyama, going forward is an act of moving ahead, or to many it may seem like an act of abandoning your hometown. Between Niigata and Tokyo, going to Tokyo is seen as a positive thing. He is going from the golden region towards something more developed, and by doing so, abandoning his hometown, Niigata.
If you go beyond that, it’s like the world of Yasunari Kawabata, the well-known author, but here it is about the timing of the character finally leaving his hometown. Niigata is a city of snow. If you go beyond the city of snow, there is a moment of light. The moment you go beyond the tunnel, there is a moment of light. People who go from Niigata to Tokyo will experience that. Those who have seen it in real life will understand, but movies and reality are not the same. I wanted to capture the feeling of going into the light in the movie. It’s the same as Daichi’s feelings. Now, if we look at it, why towards the end? Why not when he grows up? Why not think of going to Tokyo before? Why did he want to go to Tokyo at that time? I think it’s easy to understand: his mother died.
“The fact is that his mother was his self-destruction, but at the same time there are various negative and positive feelings. There is also a part that can be saved by the death of his mother. I think it was his mother’s death that made Daichi step on the accelerator. His mother was his axis, which, when broken, allows Daichi to move forward.”
Uchiyama also touches upon the Russian angle in the film. “Historically speaking, we often met Russians in the city while growing up, so it was not new for us, as it is very close to Niigata and easy to cross over by boat. As a child, I didn’t understand what was going on, but I knew it was dangerous. In a way, it was mysterious, and I wanted to draw that as a fact in my film. I didn’t want to draw Russia as something negative, but as a fact. The current world is different from 20 years ago, and we must respect modernity. The genocide that Russia is committing now can’t be forgiven. I can say that as a director and as a citizen. But it’s not limited to Russia. When I go to Tokyo, there are lots of Koreans, Chinese and other Asians, and we become friends. But there are also problems in China and Korea. We get along well, but there’s an atmosphere where we can’t get along. It’s strange to me that there’s such an atmosphere,” he further explains. “So it’s very natural for Daichi and Ivan to become friends. Daichi is the only one who can open his heart. I wanted to draw that as a very important element. Ivan doesn’t have a negative side like Russia or the junkies. I wanted to get rid of the element that he might be like that. I wanted to draw their friendship as their important justice.”
As a director and screenwriter, Uchiyama feels that through Daichi he wanted to highlight his survival ability. “Through this film, I didn’t want to focus on his unhappiness or poverty.”
“I didn’t want to focus on superficiality. Because he finds his survival ability because he doesn’t have money. So it’s very important for him to look at the world in a proper way. For Daichi, poverty means that he’s trying to live a positive life. So it’s not simple poverty. The poverty in his heart means that even if he had money, he would still have poverty in his heart. It’s like an emptiness of the heart, where Daichi is trying to live positively.”
Uchiyama loves to shoot on film, especially 16mm. He feels that shooting on film brings a very different feel to the film. Here, the visuals shot in the hard, cold winter capture the essence of grain, snow and rain to bring a documentary-like effect to the film. “This was my first time shooting on film, so I was fascinated by the depth of film. It was technically very difficult to deal with the cold and the temperature difference while shooting in winter.”
Coming from a smaller city like Niigata to a big, bustling city like Tokyo, Uchiyama also highlights the perspective of community and individualism that one finds in the film, where Daichi is often helped by strangers. “Tokyo is all about individualism. In Niigata, it’s all about solidarity. We’re all trying to protect each other. That’s what I wanted to convey in this movie.”
“This is a big tale about a small world. What is captured by a child’s gaze? Images overlap with the sounds of daily life and nature. Shifting emotions accompanied by the sea, wind, rain, and snow. In the passing days of ordinary life: breathing, the ache of the heart, fear, at times joy, feeling the air of these things upon one’s skin. I hope this film brings the audience an awareness of the often-overlooked fragments of beauty in our daily lives, and that they feel affection toward their lives and connections with others. In turn, to those who wish to change the course of their lives, to those struggling to remain defiant in the face of their travails, and to the children denied a childhood: life can be started over again. It’s never too late.”
Our team is on the ground at the 76th Berlin International Film Festival, running from February 12th to 22nd, 2026.
