If you liked Departures...

We've been cocooned in quarantine for over a year now, and some sort of metamorphosis is inevitable. It's been a time with its share of stress, isolation, and--hopefully!--growth.

Whether you've become a beautiful mutant butterfly ready to burst forth from the chrysalis, or you're still in a process of transformation, it's a great moment to reflect on the nature of existence. Cue the tranquil, subtle insights of a genre I call the existential comedy.

Mind you, I don't mean existentialist--that bleak, often nihilistic 'why are we here--clearly there's no point' genre. (You can argue with my oversimplification, but seriously, they get way too pessimistic). I'm talking about comedies that visit life's darkness, find ways to laugh at its absurdity, and also appreciate its beauty. The following films offer humorous companions for moments of bleakness, and also welcoming rays of hope.

May they inspire you to make this moment of isolation one that brings new direction, purpose, and appreciation for life and its possibilities!

Departures

An out-of-work cellist takes on a job "working with departures." The ad is a misprint; he'll be working with "the departed"--a serious taboo in Japanese culture. He's traumatized by the work, and even childhood friends start shunning him on the street.

Yet somehow fate, paired with the matter-of-fact tenacity of his boss, keep Daijo in the job, and he comes to find that the work grants him greater reverence and appreciation for life. As his employer apprentices him in the stately ceremony of preparing the dead, he learns that his teacher is a man of rare, otherworldly skill. And that his work is one final tribute to a departing life, healing its wounds through the simple magic of their care.

Kikujiro

This film always reminds me of a Sunday afternoon: you might be having a good time, but underneath is the nagging feeling that it all will be over soon.

Fittingly, the slogan of this film is "Play really hard, then weep a little bit." They're not joking. I can't even listen to the soundtrack theme without a little lump forming in my throat. It's full of love and charm, but it's still a little heartbreaking.

Middle-aged, wanna-be gangster Kikujiro finds himself charged with escorting a child neighbor to his mother's house. The boy has never met his mother, and things don't turn out as planned. Kikujiro is a gruff man who doesn't get along with anyone, and tends to be broke. Yet somehow he manages to mobilize a band of random travellers--including a pair of bikers who are probably life partners and some hippies in a VW Microbus--to show this child that there is love in the world. It's a road movie set in August; you know it won't last forever, but that doesn't make it hurt any less when it ends.

Adrift in Tokyo

This is a humble, clever little film about the fleeting nature of life.

Fumiya is an eighth-year college student who has spent most of his life in the company of strangers. He's now 8 million yen in debt, and so haplessly desperate he buys tri-color Aquafresh in hopes that it might change his fate.

Fukuhara is the Yakuza debt collector who's come to collect. After threatening and roughing up the debtor in comical fashion, he offers to cancel the debt in exchange for company on an extended sojourn through the city of Tokyo.

We soon learn that Fukuhara has committed a crime, and that this walk's destination is the police station where he will turn himself in. He is remorseful, reflective, and stoically prepared to pay for what he's done.

We already know that this gangster is not a great guy, and the film isn't trying to forgive him for anything. Nevertheless, his underlying character is revealed to be incongruously hokey for a gangster: he's dressed for the walk with sensible walking shoes and man-purse, he worries about how small clock shop owners could possibly make a living, he dreamed of spending his golden years taking walks through Tokyo with his wife.

Meanwhile, the world of Tokyo is bidding its farewell in full regalia: scenery is alive with color and chaos; delightfully odd encounters unfold everywhere they go. The duo find kinship they had searched for all their lives.

It's a film of strange and marvelous moments. Sad and joyful all at once.

Castaway on the Moon

In the ultimate cosmic joke, a salaryman's failed suicide attempt leaves him marooned on an island in the Han River, fighting for his survival. He finds ways to move forward, one whiff of black bean noodles at a time.

Meanwhile, a young agorophobe with a telescope witnesses his travails, and begins a plan to make contact with the outside world.

It is a brilliant film about starting over, and finding hope in the small treasures of life.

The Intouchables

Perhaps you're familiar with the American version of this story, starring Kevin Hart and Brian Cranston. I liked that version, but the original has something special.

It's a true story about a poor French-Moroccan who--by some twist of fate--comes to work as a caregiver for an obscenely wealthy quadriplegic man. Both are dealing (in some way) with limited options and horizons, yet each has attributes that serve to broaden and enrich the world of the other.

King of California

This is a film about a father and daughter (played by Michael Douglas and Evan Rachel Wood), and a world closing around them. Douglas plays a free-wheeling, mentally-ill artifact of the rock n' roll era. His daughter's been left alone for years, struggling to cope and keep things afloat all by herself.

To me, it was most compelling as an elegy to a bohemian California, a place of natural beauty and abundance, where artistic types were taken care of as they lived off the resplendent fat of the land. We see this world of orange groves and rickety, sun-drenched Victorians get swallowed up by the artless repetition of suburban subdivisions, shopping centers, and chain restaurants.

The film has a happy ending, and a bright resonance, but it is nevertheless not one that will make you feel better about the bigger problems that it points out. In that regard, it's more bitter than sweet.

But I did find that its story of sprawl gave me some kind of strange peace. So often, these days, some overlooked, tucked-away little farmhouse and overgrown garden or pasture gets paved over in a matter of days or weeks. The landscape gets filled in and planed over, obliterating all evidence of its former character. There's no ceremony to it, no reverence for the lives that once lived there, and certainly no concern for the earth's autonomy. I find myself driving by these parking lots and bland warehouse-y buildings with a pang in my heart: will there come a day when none of us can remember an earth shaped by her own devices? This film gave voice to that feeling, and I felt grateful for that.

Billu

Billu is a barber in a small village, and he's barely scraping by. When a movie starring his childhood friend is scheduled to be filmed in town, it seems his luck may finally change. What ensues would be any introvert's nightmare. Featuring Shah Rukh Khan and a host of great Bollywood dance numbers, as well as the soulful eyes of Irfan Khan (RIP). It's a bit glossier than some of the works on this list, but Billu's quiet journey of alienation and redemption is right on point. A reminder that acts of kindness do change the world, even if we don't always see the results.

Back to Life

Should you be feeling like this year of quarantine has robbed you of life's milestones, this series (and one other on the list) might offer some perspective. Think 18-20 years in one room, with no internet.

Miri Mattison has returned to her seaside hometown after serving 18 years for a murder she didn't commit, and no one believes she's innocent. Not even her parents, it would seem. The town rises up to protest her return, and she can't get a job. Adding to this, she's basically an 18 year-old in a 36 year-old body. She's still obsessed with the boyfriend to whom she almost lost her virginity (he's married, with twins), and her bedroom is plastered with images of now-deceased icons: David Bowie, Michael Jackson, Prince, and George Michael. The series tempers the bleakness of the scenario with absurd wit, and beautiful coastal scenery.

The Last OG

This show deals with exactly the same premise as Back to Life, but returns protagonist Tray (played by Tracy Morgan) to the now-gentrified Brooklyn, after a mandatory-minimum term for drug dealing. The world has changed utterly, and he's entirely disoriented about how to fit in. Everywhere he turns, his place in the world is challenged or denied; even his children seem to have moved on. He shuffles along, alternating between backsliding and scrambling back. For all that, the show remains, for the most part, bright and upbeat, and offers a compassionate look at all-too-common problems that get little attention in film and TV.