One of the harshest realities in life is a lack of closure. The sudden death of a loved one, the dissolution of a serious relationship, the disappearance of a wedding ring; whatever the case may be, the universe frequently hands us improbable and unknowable scenarios without the benefit of an assumed outcome. It’s a cruel and unforgiving actuality inextricably linked to all of existence, and it also forms the foundation of The Height of the Coconut Trees, a new film by Chinese filmmaker Du Jie. Nominally a cinematographer, and arguably best known for lensing Sicheng Chen’s Detective Chinatown trilogy, Du makes his directorial debut here, while donning several other hats in writing, producing, editing, shooting, and production designing as well. Operating in a similar mode as South Korean auteur Hong Sang-soo, Du likewise opts to explore the profundities of life, death, relationships, and ghosts, delivering a deliberately staged and beautifully crafted meditation on the world’s greatest mysteries.
The core narrative of Coconut Trees revolves around two separate couples. The first is Sugamoto (Minami Ohba) and Aoki (Seita Shibuya), who are introduced in the throes of passion, forming a pact to commemorate their love for each other with matching tattoos. This sequence, which is the warmest and most intimate in the entire film, is also the last time either of them will be happy. While cleaning a fish at his restaurant, Aoki discovers a wedding ring lodged in its belly, using the golden opportunity to propose to Sugamoto. As they plan for their honeymoon, Aoki abruptly breaks up with Sugamoto, leaving the wounded woman to head off on holiday alone. The other couple here is Mochida (Soichiro Tanaka) and Rin (Riria Kojima), the latter of whom having recently committed suicide, leaving behind a roll of undeveloped photos and a litany of unanswered questions. Hoping to chase and capture an image of Rin’s ghost on film, Mochida travels to Cape Ashizuri, the southernmost point of Japan’s Shikoku Island and the very same location intended for Sugamoto and Aoki’s honeymoon. Elsewhere, another man bides his time at the beach, having lost his wedding ring in the sand while playing with his daughter, and as a result has been forbidden to return home by his own wife until he finds it again.
There’s a haunted feeling that permeates Coconut Trees, traversing back and forth through time to explore this microcosmic collection of lost souls, unceremoniously abandoned by their respective partners. The ensuing journey is akin to a quiet reckoning, finding Sugamoto and Mochida looking to pick up the pieces of their lives and comprehend why the vicissitudes of life have struck them fast and hard. For a first feature, Du’s formal approach is understated but assured, calling upon his own experience as a cinematographer for lovely, painterly compositions, even demonstrating the confidence to stage the film’s centerpiece as a quiet, extended dinner sequence between Sugamoto and Mochida, who eventually meet and share respective stories of their former loved ones in Cape Ashizuri.
The closing credits of Coconut Trees inform us that several of the film’s dialogue scenes were a reenactment of a talk event that took place during “Sazanami,” a Japan-China contemporary artist relay. This particular talk event was an exhibition by Kenji Chiba, who shared written excerpts and images from his art book, Hijack Geni, all based on real events. Chiba actually appears in the film, and Mochida attends one of his presentations, witnessing a shared collection of the final moments and memories of dying and suicidal people, hoping the experiences of others can bring him one step closer to closure. The Height of the Coconut Trees is enigmatic and elliptical — the title referring to the unknown stature of a pair of coconut trees that are planted outside of Sugamoto’s hotel in Cape Ashizuri — but it’s delivered with utmost confidence and beauty by Du, who makes an impressive feature debut rife with truths that speak a universal language.
Published as part of New Directors/New Films 2025.
Comments are closed.