A Story of Yonosuke is not a film about grand tragedies or heroic triumphs. Instead, it’s a tender, meandering portrait of an unremarkable young man whose small acts of kindness ripple through the lives of others. Directed by Shūichi Okita and based on the novel by Shūichi Yoshida, the movie unfolds in nostalgic vignettes, piecing together the legacy of Yonosuke—a cheerful, somewhat clumsy college student in 1980s Tokyo—through the memories of those who knew him.
The narrative jumps between past and present, with former classmates, lovers and friends reminiscing about Yonosuke’s years after their encounters. We see him as a wide-eyed freshman (played brilliantly by Kengo Kōra), stumbling through first love, friendships and the awkwardness of youth. His life isn’t extraordinary, but his genuine, guileless nature leaves an indelible mark on everyone he meets.
The film’s nonlinear structure mirrors how memory works—fragmented, bittersweet and often unexpectedly poignant. Scenes like Yonosuke’s first date with the reserved Shoko (Yuriko Yoshitaka) or his naive attempts to bond with his wealthy friend Shigeta are laced with humor and quiet pathos.
The film asks, “How do we remember those who touched our lives briefly?”
Yonosuke isn’t a hero, but his authenticity makes him unforgettable. Unlike cinematic protagonists who "change the world," Yonosuke’s impact is accidental—his warmth is effortless, never self-conscious. The 1980s Tokyo setting, with its payphones and cassette tapes, adds a layer of wistfulness, emphasizing how time softens the edges of memory.
Kōra embodies Yonosuke with a lovable, understated charm. His performance avoids cloying sweetness; instead, he feels like someone we’ve all met. And Okita’s direction is unhurried, almost documentary-like. He lingers on mundane moments—a shared meal, a clumsy dance—letting them resonate deeply. The supporting cast including Kumiko Aso and Ayumi Ito delivers subtle, heartfelt performances that anchor the film’s emotional core.
Some viewers might find the film too slow or lacking a traditional plot. But this deliberate pacing is its strength—Yonosuke’s life isn’t about dramatic arcs but the accumulation of small, meaningful moments.
A Story of Yonosuke is a rare gem that celebrates the beauty of ordinary lives. It’s funny, tender and deeply human, leaving you with a quiet ache—not for grand endings, but for the fleeting connections that shape us.
I give it 8.5/10.