In this blog post, we explore why the movie Love Letter makes us realize the preciousness of memories, examining the reasons its moving story and beautiful cinematography make us reminisce and feel deeply moved.
Why I Love Love Letter
There was a high school boy. He still had shaggy hair and was wandering around, searching for shelter from the cold wind. He wore a scarf, but it wasn’t enough to feel warm. Yet the cold he felt wasn’t just because of the winter weather. Even in winter, feeling cold to the bone isn’t common. No matter how much he wrapped himself in clothes, an unbearable cold was freezing both his body and soul. He wanted to lean on something, or someone. For reasons he couldn’t share with others, his body and mind were already defenseless against the chill.
About a month after the college entrance exams ended, the boy sought solace at a riverside movie theater. Entering the cinema without a second thought, seeking refuge, he chose the movie ‘Love Letter’ simply because its showtime matched. In truth, this was the film he had longed to watch with the girl he held deep in his heart. Yet, due to personal circumstances, it ultimately became a special film that would remain solely in his own memories.
Watching a movie alone in the cinema that day was a first for the boy. For the boy at that time, movies were something meant to be shared with others—to laugh, enjoy, and create memories together. But such leisure was a luxury he couldn’t afford back then. He simply wanted to escape reality, even briefly, and immerse himself in another world for at least two hours, free from the pain and complex thoughts of his life. The moment the lights dimmed and the opening credits rolled, the boy realized how right he had been to choose this film.
Though it was only two hours, the boy felt as if he were alone in an unfamiliar space. He was astonished that a film meant solely for him was unfolding before his eyes. Until now, movies had been something he watched and shared with others. But now, the film had become a world entirely his own. Whoever sat beside him, whatever others thought, it no longer affected him in the slightest.
The first film the boy experienced with his entire being. The film that comforted him during difficult times, that became his refuge. The film that became even more special to the boy because of the circumstances was director Iwai Shunji’s ‘Love Letter’.
Movie Narrative Summary
After attending the memorial service for her lover, Fujii Itsuki, who died in a climbing accident two years prior, Watanabe Hiroko (Nakayama Miho), living in Kobe, stops by his house and looks at his junior high school yearbook. She suddenly sends a letter to his old address in Otaru, written in the album. Surprisingly, a reply arrives. Believing it to be a message from Itsuki in heaven, Hiroko continues sending letters. However, the replies actually come from another Fujii Itsuki, a female classmate from middle school who shared the same name.
Unaware of this, Hiroko keeps writing letters and eventually confides her story to Itsuki’s friend. The friend, who secretly loved Hiroko, sends a letter to the Itsuki in Otaru demanding proof that he is the real Itsuki. The Itsuki in Otaru sends back photos and documents proving his identity and asks her to stop writing. Shocked by this revelation, Hiroko heads to Otaru. She leaves a letter apologizing for the misunderstanding caused by their shared name, concealing the fact that the real Itsuki had already passed away, and turns back.
Reading Hiroko’s letter, the other Itsuki finally recalls memories of a boy named Fujii Itsuki from his middle school days. Returning to Kobe, Hiroko sends another letter to the Itsuki in Otaru, asking him to share memories of his middle school days. As their correspondence continues, the Itsuki in Otaru begins recalling various memories from his middle school days, all stemming from sharing the same name.
One day, Hiroko asks him to photograph the playground where his lover Itsuki used to run. Visiting the school, Itsuki overhears younger students organizing books saying, “It’s become a trend to find library cards with ‘Fujii Itsuki’ written on them.” He learns that the boy Fujii Itsuki used to find books no one had borrowed and write his name on the library card first. Then, Itsuki hears from a teacher that the boy Fujii Itsuki passed away in an accident two years ago.
Shocked, Itsuki recalls the memory of losing his father to pneumonia ten years ago. His cold worsens, and he collapses, losing consciousness. With heavy snow preventing an ambulance from reaching them, his grandfather carries Itsuki on his back and runs all the way to the hospital. At that very moment, Hiroko climbs the mountain where her lover Itsuki had been in the accident and spends the night at a mountain lodge. The next morning, Hiroko weeps, crying out Itsuki’s name and pleading for his safety towards the mountain. At the same time, Itsuki in Otaru regains consciousness in his hospital room.
After being discharged, Itsuki writes a letter recalling her last memory with the boy Itsuki from middle school. The letter recounts how, not long after her father passed away, the boy Itsuki came to see her, handed her a book borrowed from the library, and asked her to return it for him. She concludes the letter, remembering that when she went to school a few days later, the boy Itsuki had already transferred away.
Later, junior high school juniors visit Itsuki’s home carrying a book. It was the very book the boy Itsuki had brought her on his last visit. Urged by the juniors, Itsuki flips open the back of the library card and discovers a drawing of herself that the boy Itsuki had sketched there. Only then does Itsuki realize the feelings the boy Itsuki had harbored for her.
A ‘Love Letter’ Seen Through Another’s Eyes
Film Critic
Japanese director Shunji Iwai’s second film, a popular work praised for “perfectly blending the everyday themes of memory and love with beautiful visuals and music.” It unfolds a journey of memories about a man, triggered by a single letter mistakenly delivered due to confusion over a namesake.
Based on a novel written by director Shunji Imai himself, the film was produced before Japan’s cultural opening, meaning it was never officially imported into Korea. Despite this, videos circulated through unofficial channels, cementing its status as a legendary (?) work that sparked a phenomenon. It was rumored that over 300,000 copies of the video were illegally distributed domestically at one point, with over 200,000 people reportedly watching it this way.
Despite this, concerns arose that the film might struggle at the box office during its domestic release, as many had already seen it. However, Iwai Shunji’s work ultimately surpassed 700,000 viewers in Seoul and 1.4 million nationwide, sparking a boom in Japanese cinema and Iwai Shunji himself.
According to film experts, this work did not receive particularly positive reactions from critics within Japan. Specifically, Iwai’s visuals were criticized for having “an overly ‘commercialized’ sensibility reminiscent of consumer culture.” Yet his work resonated deeply with young audiences, striking a precise chord with their sensibilities. The promotional tagline used during its Japanese release, “A poignant and nostalgic visual aesthetic that touches everyone’s heart,” proved highly persuasive to viewers.
Remedios, the group responsible for the film’s music, is widely known for their work on Iwai Shunji’s films. While Remedios gained considerable fame in Japan thanks to Iwai’s popularity, their actual identity remains somewhat ambiguous. Little is known about their activities outside of film music, and the group name Remedios means ‘god of healing’.
Chosun Ilbo
The most beautiful aspect of ‘Love Letter’ lies in those moments that shine alone, never having met. Though the time the departed spent in this world was extremely brief, their traces remain everywhere, conveying the warm heat of fond recollection to those left behind. For instance, the dragonfly buried in the snowfield can be said to represent the core image of this film.
Interestingly, the director cast the same actress for both female lead roles. This idea of one actor playing two roles carries multiple symbolic meanings. Hiroko, unable to forget her deceased lover, prepares to finally let him go through exchanging letters with the female Itsuki. Longing may seem like a force pulling what is distant closer, but it can also be closer to a force that pushes what is slowly drifting away even faster. Or perhaps it’s closer to resignation, an acceptance of what has drifted away.
Yet there’s no need to lament this resignation. The female Itsuki, who was completely unaware that the male Itsuki loved her, creates a space for him in her heart as she revisits old memories. Here, the dual role embodies the process of letting go on one side and welcoming on the other within a single body. It is a device that exquisitely symbolizes how the two directions of movement that time leaves in the world are ultimately one.
‘Love Letter’ is, upon closer inspection, filled with this ‘push and pull’ structure. The setting of two women with the same face, and the situation of a man and woman sharing the same name, also faithfully vary the director’s intent. Even the snow, which could be considered the third protagonist in the film, an emotional backdrop, follows this structure. Snow is a majestic and beautiful force capable of embracing everything, yet it is also a terrifying entity that took the lives of two men. The director shows Itsuki being thrown back into the blizzard that claimed his father’s life from pneumonia, only to ultimately be saved.
It truly seems that in the world, there is no such thing as absolute loss or absolute gain. Departure is often a passing of the baton to return, and loss inevitably gives way to new beginnings. As the year draws to a close, this thought grows ever deeper.
Cine Seoul
‘Love Letter’ is a work that touches on precious memories and emotions fading from modern people’s lives. Recently, works targeting this sentiment have been introduced one after another. In Korea, representative examples include ‘Letter’ or ‘Letter in a Bottle’, and director Jin Ga-shin’s other ‘Love Letter’. Yet among them, the impact Iwai Shunji’s ‘Love Letter’ had in Korea was truly immense.
Spreading by word of mouth, it drew massive audiences solely through pirated videos, becoming a staple at university film festivals. The phrase “Ogenki desu ka?” (“How are you?”) became a catchphrase even among those who didn’t know Japanese. It sparked such a phenomenon that scenes reminiscent of the film flooded commercials and movies everywhere. The sheer fact that over 300,000 unofficial copies circulated, allowing more than a million people to watch the film, speaks to its power.
Thanks to this phenomenon, after the second wave of Japanese pop culture imports was announced in September, distributors eagerly positioned ‘Love Letter’ as their flagship title.
Watching the film, one truly appreciates how skilled the Japanese are at presentation. It’s astonishing how an everyday love story, seemingly prone to clichés, can be packaged so beautifully through the medium of film.
Particularly, the most striking virtue of ‘Love Letter’ is the pervasive manga-like sensibility felt throughout. A prime example is the scenes where the heroine, Fujii Itsuki, reminisces about her school days. Among these, the exaggerated acting of her friend, Sanae Oikawa (played by Suzuki Ranran), further accentuates the film’s cartoonish charm.
My Personal Film Analysis
Love Letter is a work that feels incredibly fresh and accessible overall. It takes a subject that could easily have devolved into melodrama—simply longing for a deceased lover, causing even those around her to reminisce—and expresses it with great sophistication.
At the heart of this film lies a unique ‘structural feature’. The two protagonists are connected through the medium of ‘letters’. A letter Hiroko sent without a second thought to the one she loved. That letter coincidentally arrives at Itsuki, a woman sharing the same name as her lover. Through this letter, Hiroko and Itsuki begin sharing stories about the boy Itsuki and Itsuki’s own school days. This interwoven narrative of present and past, moving between two eras, plays a crucial role in unraveling the tangled emotions of the two characters.
Despite today’s advanced digital technology, the analog letter serves as an emotional device that prompts reflection on the film’s central theme of ‘memory,’ naturally bridging the past and present. This structure lends credibility to the story, transforming what could initially seem like Hiroko’s melodramatic narrative into Itsuki’s journey of rediscovering memories through the letters. This creates a warm and heartfelt overall structure for the film.
The narrative progression transfers Hiroko’s pain from losing her lover onto Itsuki’s memories. It makes it seem as if the two characters in the film were one and the same person. Indeed, when the scene of Hiroko sobbing while asking after Itsuki’s well-being on the mountain where he died, and the scene of Itsuki whispering softly while in a coma, unfold simultaneously, the two feel like one person. This direction instills in the viewer the impression that the two did not love separate individuals, but were fundamentally the same person, intensifying affection and focus on the characters.
Another indispensable element of this film is its setting and music. The most significant factor defining the film’s overall image is the ‘pure white’ aesthetic created by its setting and music. From the very first scene to the last, the landscape is consistently blanketed in white snow. This carefully unveils the emotion of ‘memory’ preserved within cherished recollections, much like the frozen human trapped in ice yet existing eternally.
In the film’s opening scene, Hiroko lies on the snow, holding her breath, on the day of her lover Itsuki’s memorial service. It appears as if she is trying to understand the feelings of her deceased lover by lying on the ice-cold snow. Did she think that doing so might bring her a little closer to him? Hiroko’s love is heartbreaking, but this heartbreak remains within the audience’s imagination and conjecture; the film maintains a restrained atmosphere throughout, unfolding its story.
Though the protagonist has lost the person she loved most in the world, her restrained demeanor perfectly matches the film’s pure white backdrop. In this way, the setting plays a significant role in highlighting the protagonist’s inner world. This aesthetic of restraint greatly amplifies the impact of scenes like Hiroko’s emotional outburst of sobbing or her flustered attempt to write down an address in Itsuki’s room.
Furthermore, Remedios’s music blends seamlessly with the setting, further emphasizing the restrained atmosphere and delicately revealing the protagonist’s psychology. It serves as an excellent example of how the film’s elements harmonize to highlight the characters, delivering emotional impact to the audience through their imagery.
If I were to personally interpret one of the film’s overarching characteristics, it would be that this work does not follow the typical formula of a melodrama.
The story of a man and the two women surrounding him is a common melodramatic structure of a love triangle. However, Love Letter maintains this structure while unfolding it from a fresh perspective. Hiroko and Itsuki are not simply two women who loved one man. They are two distinct beings fatefully intertwined.
By structuring what could easily become melodramatic and predictable through the medium of letters, it creates a framework where the two inevitably come to understand and ultimately acknowledge each other. This lends the film a special charm for its audience.
Hiroko gains the opportunity to process her feelings for her deceased lover, Itsuki, through the passage of time. Meanwhile, Itsuki fills the psychological space Hiroko left behind with cherished memories and recollections. Despite both women being portrayed by the same actress, they are distinctively expressed through different speech patterns and behaviors, yet simultaneously felt as one person—a unique feature of this film.
Love Letter is not merely a story of a love triangle; it leaves a warm aftertaste by capturing the characters’ psychological journeys as they sort through their complex emotions in a straightforward, contemplative manner.
Furthermore, one of the film’s charms is its Eastern sensibility. While its Japanese production certainly plays a role, the film consistently unfolds its story with an Eastern sensibility. This warm, Eastern sentiment is felt in scenes like the opening memorial service and the grandfather’s struggle to preserve the family home, filled with ancestral memories and history, despite plans to move.
Personally, I believe there’s another Eastern sentiment the film doesn’t explicitly reveal: the mystique surrounding the afterlife. The film doesn’t directly tell the story of the deceased Itsuki. Yet within the film’s flow, one can imagine that the deceased Itsuki connected the two women.
Recalling Itsuki, his childhood first love, and Hiroko, his mature love, he would have wished for both women he loved to find happiness. For Hiroko, he likely wanted to give her the chance to sort through her feelings and start anew. For Itsuki, he probably wanted to leave behind cherished memories within the realm of remembrance.
In the film, when Hiroko cries out “Are you doing well?” while sobbing on the mountain, and the comatose Itsuki whispers “Are you doing well?”, this scene shows the two characters are connected by an invisible thread. Perhaps this thread is the connection created by the deceased Itsuki.
Ultimately, Love Letter depicts the process through which the dead and the living understand each other via an invisible spiritual connection, finding healing and comfort within love and memories.
Why You Can’t Help But Love Love Letter
The film Love Letter is a work truly cherished by many people. Even before its official release in Korea, many had already seen it through pirated CDs, and after its release, it achieved significant box office success, attracting approximately 1.3 million viewers. A key reason for the film’s success was the perfect blend of diverse elements that anyone could relate to.
The film doesn’t just tell a love story between a man and a woman; it also explores memories of school days, affection for family, and friendship between friends. These elements harmonize with the unique supporting characters that appear throughout the film, making Love Letter a movie loved by everyone. Furthermore, the consistently beautiful music and pure white visuals evoke deep empathy in the audience through the pure love and the memories of that love.
Audiences, captivated by the protagonists’ memories and beautiful recollections, become immersed in the nostalgic atmosphere emanating from the film. For this reason, even while watching this film, which unfolds with thoroughly restrained emotion, one never feels bored.
Everyone has their own precious memories. And the reason those memories are precious is that they remain beautiful in our recollection, even as time passes. As time flows, memories grow hazy yet are remembered more beautifully, as if wrapped in a protective layer. This quality mirrors the snow-covered scenes within the spaces of the film Love Letter. The landscapes in the film remain unchanged, forever preserved in pure white.
Memories that stay with us forever are like the spaces in the film—they exist unchanged. Whether one finds those memories or not determines whether they feel happier or less happy. Love Letter is precisely the kind of film that brings back such happy memories.
Simply knowing that one’s precious memories can be found again makes audiences feel a little happier after the film ends than they did before watching it. In this way, by giving audiences hope and warmth, Love Letter will be remembered as a truly beautiful and meaningful film.
To live today a little happier than yesterday. Isn’t that the very reason to watch the film Love Letter?
