- Country: Japan
- Initial release: 2021 (Japan)
- Film Director: Ryusuke Hamaguchi
- Genre: Drama, Heavy, Psychological, Haunting
- Rate: 18+
- Original Language: Japanese
- Subtitle: N/A
- Running Time: 180 Minutes
- IMDB: 7.5 /10
Drive My Car (2021), the OSCAR®-winning Japanese drama, explores grief, communication, and human vulnerability through minimalist storytelling and profound character depth. This analysis reveals why the film’s emotional precision and artistic structure make it one of the most influential works in contemporary world cinema.
cMovie.Asia
Drive My Car (2021), OSCAR® winner for Best International Feature Film, stands as a landmark achievement in Japanese cinema. Through its meditative pacing, multilingual dialogue, and intricate exploration of grief and human connection, this Drive My Car 2021 OSCAR analysis uncovers why the film continues to resonate with global audiences seeking emotional authenticity.
Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s Drive My Car (2021) is one of the most celebrated Japanese films of the decade—an introspective, slow-burning masterpiece that blends grief, art, communication, and human vulnerability into a cinematic experience unlike any other. Adapted loosely from Haruki Murakami’s short story, the film uses silence, emotional distance, multilingual communication, and ritual to examine how people process trauma and seek connection. Although understated in tone, Drive My Car has become a landmark of modern world cinema, winning global awards and achieving enduring cultural impact.
Table of Contents

A Transformative Story Rooted in Grief and Human Complexity
At its core, Drive My Car is a story about a man who has not yet allowed himself to confront his deepest emotional wounds. The film follows Yūsuke Kafuku (Hidetoshi Nishijima), a theatre director and actor who continues to carry the emotional weight of his wife Oto’s betrayal and her sudden death. Despite his outward composure, inside he is fragmented—disconnected from his own grief, from others, and from his ability to fully express truth.
The power of Drive My Car lies in how these emotional fractures unfold not through dramatic outbursts but through subtle gestures, lingering silences, and extended scenes of routine. It explores the slow, deliberate process by which wounded people begin to understand themselves.
The narrative does not try to “fix” its characters. Instead, it offers the radical message that healing is not a destination but a long, uncertain, deeply personal journey.
Communication Beyond Language: The Film’s Multilingual Innovation
One of the film’s most striking artistic choices is the multilingual nature of the theatre production that Kafuku directs. Actors from Japan, Korea, Taiwan, the Philippines, and other countries perform in different languages:
- Japanese
- Mandarin
- Tagalog
- Korean
- Korean Sign Language
This multilingual performance isn’t merely stylistic—it reinforces the film’s central theme: humans struggle to understand each other even when they speak the same language, but connection remains possible through sincerity and vulnerability.
In these moments, Drive My Car transcends cultural boundaries and highlights the universality of pain, longing, and artistic expression.
Misaki Watari: The Quiet Heart of the Story
While Kafuku is the film’s emotional center, the character of Misaki Watari (Tōko Miura) is its quiet heart. Hired as Kafuku’s driver during his theatre residence in Hiroshima, Misaki is a young woman with her own traumatic past—marked by violence, poverty, and the loss of her mother.
The partnership between Kafuku and Misaki is rare in cinema:
a deeply intimate relationship formed without romantic tension, built instead on shared silence, mutual respect, and emotional truth.
Misaki’s simple presence, her steady driving, and her unspoken resilience become the grounding force that allows Kafuku to begin facing the grief he has avoided for years.
The Car as a Symbol: A Moving Space of Memory and Confession
The red Saab 900 Turbo, central to the film’s title, is more than a vehicle—it is a sacred emotional space.
For Kafuku, the car represents routine, safety, and control. He rehearses lines while driving, listens to tapes recorded by his late wife, and uses the solitude of the vehicle to manage his unresolved emotions.
Once Misaki becomes his driver, the car transforms into a shared cavity where honesty becomes possible. Their long drives are spaces where silence communicates more than dialogue, where the rhythm of the road creates opportunities for confession.
In many ways, the car itself is the film’s therapy room, allowing both characters to finally confront their emotional realities.
Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s Directorial Genius

Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s direction in Drive My Car is patient, confident, and philosophical. He uses:
- Long takes that encourage the audience to sit with discomfort
- Minimalist visual framing to highlight emotional isolation
- Extended silences that reveal unspoken conflicts
- Deliberate pacing that mirrors the slow healing process
The film does not rush. It unfolds like life—messy, nonlinear, and contemplative. Hamaguchi trusts the audience’s intelligence and emotional sensitivity, making the film feel both intimate and universal.
His approach aligns with the traditions of Japanese auteurs such as Ozu and Kore-eda yet remains distinctly his own.
Themes That Define the Film’s Lasting Impact
1. Grief and Emotional Distance
Kafuku’s internal conflict centers on his inability to face the truth of his marriage. Grief becomes a barrier to vulnerability, isolating him from the world.
2. Art as a Method of Understanding
The rehearsal process, the multilingual performance, and the repetitive line readings all serve as metaphors for the emotional work of processing trauma.
3. The Limits—and Necessity—of Human Connection
Despite linguistic and emotional barriers, humans continue reaching toward one another. The film suggests that connection is essential, even when imperfect.
4. Impermanence and Acceptance
The story emphasizes that life’s uncertainties are unavoidable, and the only path to peace is through acceptance, not avoidance.
Performances That Deepened the Film’s Emotional Power
Hidetoshi Nishijima (Yūsuke Kafuku)
Nishijima’s performance is subtle yet powerful. His calm exterior masks profound emotional turmoil, making his character’s evolution feel authentic and deeply moving.
Tōko Miura (Misaki Watari)
Miura delivers one of the most understated yet impactful performances of the decade. Her quiet presence and emotional restraint reveal layers of pain beneath her calm demeanor.
Masaki Okada (Tōko Takatsuki)
As the younger actor linked to Oto, Okada brings complexity and vulnerability, representing Kafuku’s unresolved jealousy, guilt, and confusion.
Global Recognition and Cultural Significance
Drive My Car became a global cinematic phenomenon. Its achievements include:
- Academy Award for Best International Feature Film (2022)
- Nominations for Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Adapted Screenplay
- Winner of Best Screenplay at Cannes Film Festival
- Widespread critical acclaim across Europe, Asia, and North America
What sets the film apart is its emotional honesty and willingness to explore topics often overlooked in mainstream cinema: unresolved grief, moral ambiguity, and the difficulty of communication.
Why Drive My Car Stands as a Modern Masterpiece
Drive My Car resonates because it does not try to solve its characters’ grief or offer easy resolutions. Instead, it portrays the emotional courage required to confront one’s past and the transformative power of human connection.
Its storytelling is patient, poetic, and profoundly human—reminding viewers that healing is slow, relationships are complex, and communication often requires more than words.
Conclusion: A Film That Stays With You Long After the Credits
Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s Drive My Car is a rare work of art—one that respects the audience’s emotional intelligence and offers a deeply immersive experience into the nature of grief, connection, and personal truth. With its multilingual reflection on communication, extraordinary performances, and meditative pacing, it stands among the finest Japanese films of the 21st century.
Whether you approach it as a fan of Japanese cinema, world cinema, or emotionally rich storytelling, Drive My Car remains a film that rewards patience and invites reflection long after the credits roll.
FAQs
Why is Drive My Car (2021) considered an OSCAR®-winning masterpiece?
Drive My Car (2021) earned its OSCAR® win for its emotional storytelling, minimalist direction, and universal themes. This Drive My Car 2021 OSCAR analysis highlights how its layered performances and Japanese film craftsmanship created a global masterpiece.
What themes define Drive My Car (2021)?
Key themes include grief, communication barriers, and the transformative power of art. These Drive My Car themes deepen the emotional resonance of this Japanese film masterpiece and contribute to its international acclaim.
How does Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s direction shape the film?
Hamaguchi’s minimalist style emphasizes silence, emotional distance, and natural rhythm. This Ryusuke Hamaguchi analysis shows how his approach gives Drive My Car (2021) its depth, making the OSCAR®-winning drama a benchmark of modern Japanese cinema.
What makes the performances in Drive My Car (2021) so impactful?
The cast delivers layered, emotionally restrained performances that enhance the film’s realism. This Drive My Car 2021 OSCAR analysis reveals how subtle acting strengthens the movie’s themes and cinematic power.
How does multilingual dialogue enhance Drive My Car (2021)?
The multilingual script reflects communication challenges and emotional disconnection. As explored in this Drive My Car themes breakdown, the diverse languages deepen the film’s message about understanding beyond words.



Drive My Car (2021) is a quietly devastating masterpiece that earns every moment of its three-hour runtime. Ryusuke Hamaguchi crafts a film that moves with patience and purpose, allowing grief, memory, and human vulnerability to surface in ways that feel startlingly real. Hidetoshi Nishijima delivers a profound, understated performance as Yusuke, a theater director struggling to navigate the emotional wreckage of his past, while Toko Miura’s quiet strength brings unexpected warmth and grounding to the story.
The film’s long takes, multilingual stage production, and the intimate space inside the red Saab all work together to create an atmosphere of honesty and introspection. Rather than relying on dramatic twists, Drive My Car builds its power through silence, connection, and the slow, careful unfolding of truth. It is a rare film that lingers long after the credits roll — a deeply human story that invites viewers to sit with their own grief, forgiveness, and the possibility of moving forward.