‘Sheep in the Box’ review: A sleepy first draft of a better film

Hirokazu Koreeda is one of our greatest directors, but Sheep in the Box fails to convey as much.

Despite possessing all of the hallmarks of what constitutes a good Hirokazu Koreeda film, Sheep in the Box squanders its promise. There’s too much going on and too many ideas without a sense of urgency or real thematic tension. Instead, the latest from the master of melancholy and childhood malaise leaves his characters and plot adrift, succumbing to the bigger picture and failing to find a point.

Set in a near-future, the film follows the married couple, Otone (Haruka Ayase) and Kensuke (Daigo Yamamoto). She’s an architect who spends much of her time building model houses for potential, offscreen clients, while he’s the manager of a furniture company. They live in a sterile, if beautiful home, one lacking a touch of warmth. We learn that, two years prior, they endured the loss of their son, Kakeru (Rimu Kuwaki), in a tragic accident. Now, they’re being targeted by ads promoting an android child who can help bereaved parents heal in the wake of some terrible, insurmountable loss. This is just callous enough to make a science fiction fable feel enmeshed in reality.

Kakeru-2 shares Otone and Kensuke’s sons’ likeness. He can recall memories of his school days and people the real Kakeru met through the information Otone and Kensuke share with the company that develops the AI androids, ReBirth. But ultimately, he isn’t their son at all, just an eerie replica who, throughout the film, develops his own wants and desires, finding a community with other forgotten, neglected, or manipulated souls.

Sheep in the Box looks great, but lacks the substance to rank among Koreeda’s best.

Sheep in the Box works in theory, and it hits some crucial emotional notes in the first of its many endings. And the film captures the semi-futuristic aesthetic, from the wash of white interiors and clinical settings, to the details of Kakeru’s android makeup, that lets him bleed blue and be put back together after a fall from a roof. Cinematographer Ryûto Kondô shoots everything to give weight to the creeping sense of the abyss – be it the swelling, formless body of grief or the expanse of days ahead for Kakeru. Kondô and Koreeda find necessary bursts of color through the abundance of nature that infests the main home and, later, becomes the basis of one.

On a technical level, everything about Sheep in the Box works. From the style and the real house where most of the story is set, to the whimsical melodies of composer Yuta Bandoh (whose work appears in Koreeda’s upcoming live-action adaptation of Look Back), everything looks and sounds great. The film’s construction is effective, immersing us in a world that’s just slightly off enough to make us question the surroundings and the characters’ intentions.

The cast is similarly strong. Ayase reunites with Koreeda in her first film with the director since the contemplative Our Little Sister. She possesses a frigid rigidity that suggests both a fearsome strength and emotional volatility, in contrast to Yamamoto’s carefree, slouching figure. Opposites drawn together and pushed apart in the face of one of life’s worst outcomes. And, as is the case with all Koreeda films, Kuwaki is a formidable young talent, bringing the right amount of wonder and curiosity to make him simultaneously youthful and disconcertingly ageless. New to the world, but not a child.

So many ideas and no focus.

The real issue is the script. It’s too plodding and overarching, relying on vibes and motifs rather than taking the time to really dig into the material. Material which, with greater either focus or vigor, is rich with possibility. So much of the film grapples with what it means to have a soul, yet the writing shows so little sign of possessing one itself.

There’s no shortage of intriguing ideas and issue points. From the dangerous allure of AI to the contradictions made in the process of dealing with the fallout of grief, the nods to The Little Prince (way too overt), and the idea of nature, in the end, being our greatest sanctuary, regardless of the matter we’re made up of, Sheep in the Box wants to have it all. And, in the process, achieves nothing.

This is frustrating because Koreeda has dabbled in so many of these threads before, and the effect is often very beautiful. Luminous in his ability to construct stories of emotional enormity from the mundane. His ruminations on life and death and all that falls in between bloom in After Life. He dabbles in the broken systems that let kids fall through the cracks in Shoplifters, Nobody Knows, and Monster, and in the wills of parents as ever-present forces in After the Storm, Like Father, Like Son, and I Wish. He explores the fleeting and complex nature of what it means to be alive in Air Doll, in which a sex doll comes to life and discovers she has a soul.

The bottom line.

His work is so often profound, while maintaining a strong narrative core, whereas Sheep in the Box, in comparison, feels like a rough draft. It possesses none of the heart of his most poignant ventures, and none of the refinement of his greatest achievements. Hollow and in desperate need of a directive, the film achieves a glossy finish with no substance. Pretty but hollow.

Sheep in the Box is out now in theaters. Watch the trailer below. 

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Images courtesy of NEON.