Straddling two time periods and several very different women, Kei Ishikawa’s A Pale View of Hills gives viewers a lot to chew on. It aims to be both a snapsH๏τ at a very specific moment in history and an exploration of motherhood, the impact of war, and grief. When I caught it at the Toronto International Film Festival, I very much wanted to enjoy it, but something held me back from connecting completely.

The dual timeline begins in 1952 Nagasaki, Japan, seven years after the atomic bomb. Housewife Etsuko (Suzu Hirose) is building a home with her husband Jiro (Kôhei Matsusнιтa) in a city gradually putting itself back together following the war. With Jiro often working, Etsuko finds herself drawn toward Sachiko (Shogun‘s Fumi Nikaidō), a mysterious woman who sparks intrigue due to her relationship with an American soldier and her wild young child.

Years later, in 1982 England, A Pale View of Hills turns its attention to an older Etsuko (Yoh Yoshida) and her daughter Niki (Camilla Aiko) as they clear out the former’s home in preparation of a move. Niki, a journalism student, is eager to learn more about her mother’s past life in Nagasaki, but as she asks her questions and learns more of the past, the memory of her deceased sister threatens to overwhelm them both.

A Pale View Of Hills Has Interesting Ideas And Gorgeous Visuals, But Not Enough Depth

Based on the novel by Kazuo Ishiguro, A Pale View of Hills is an ambitious film that, despite looking very beautiful, doesn’t make the impact that it wants to. Visually, Ishikawa gives the film a dream-like quality that is perfect for an introspective tale like this, weaving between the past and present as Etsuko shares more of her story.

There’s also a haunting tone within the film, with the theme of losing children looming large. Keiko, Etsuko’s daughter and Niki’s sister, died sometime before the start of the 1982 storyline, and her loss permeates that whole arc. It even seems to extend into the past, as there have been a string of child deaths in 1952 that are not far from anyone’s mind.

Along with the post-war scars most characters carry — some even literally — A Pale View of Hills has a lot of subtext to contend with. Still, outside of Etsuko, few characters feel very fleshed-out or accessible. One could argue that is by design, considering the twist that comes at the end, but it means we spend most of the film just trying to break through to the people we’re watching.

The cast is strong and makes an effort to bridge the gap. Hirose and Yoshida both resonate as the two generations of Etsuko, with Yoshida especially shining with a darker aspect of the character. Nikaidō is good as Sachiko, though her character is the most thinly-written and thus hard to pin down. Aiko gets several excellent moments as Niki gets closer to her mother’s truth.

When we learn the truth, which is one that reframes the whole movie, it rings hollow with shock value rather than something that was gradually built up. The signs were there, yes, but the tone of the overall ending is at odds with what we’d witnessed before. It comes across as something that perhaps belongs to a different film.

This leaves A Pale View of Hills in a strange position. So much of the film is melancholic and beautifully rendered, but when it comes to building up the characters and the necessary intrigue, it lacks any real weight. Ultimately, it is a gorgeous film that’s empty inside despite all of its interesting ideas and good intentions. I kept hoping for more, and I was instead left out in the cold.

A Pale View of Hills screened at the Toronto International Film Festival.