Memorial Slicing Style of the Movie

When watching this film, the most intense feeling was not the progression of the plot, but a sense of "slicing" and exaggerated sound. This film contains the most significant feature of the book's nostalgic genre, combining together Watanabe's memories through the language of the camera.

The scene initially has an old-fashioned and rich greenish tone. That was when Watanabe, Naoko and Kizuki were playing together. Through their smiling faces, audience could sense their vibrant youth. After Watanabe and Kizuki played billiards later, they switched to the cold and deathly silent darkness at the scene where Kizuki committed suicide. This contrast of highly saturated pictures or sound gives the audience a strong impact.

This slicing effect does not merely rely on visuals but also lies in the film's sound processing, which makes the audience feel more immersed. Background music was not usually used in the film. In many scenes, we can only hear the quiet conversations between characters or their breathing. Or the sounds of the environment itself, such as wind sound or the jazz music. For instance, when Naoko and Watanabe were taking a walk, it was always their quiet conversation or sound of stepping on something. In the scene at the Naoko Sanatorium, the sound of rain in the mountains and the rustling of fallen leaves are magnified. This extremely realistic sound design makes the audience feel as if they were in that damp forest.

It is precisely this slicing editing technique combined with the immersive sound design that makes this film more like a dream of memories about the story between them. The character traits, environment and sounds formed through Watanabe's memories.

Vivian

Setting a Tone: Thoughts on the Norwegian Wood Movie

*Discussion of suicide below relating to Kizuki in the film and book, Norweigan Wood.

Since watching the beginning of Norwegian Wood, there were a few things that stuck with me. The most prominent of which was Kizuki’s death scene. In the novel, I feel the description of his death was so extremely opaque and fuzzy. It was not drawn out nor was it detailed. Strangely, at times, it felt like a small occurrence that just so happens to loom over the entirety of the book. It sets the tone for the rest of the novel and puts Naoko squarely on the path she inevitably traverses. In the moment, however, Kizuki’s death feels so small – by design – happening offscreen, and only relayed to the readers by Toru. I think this made sense for the novel. Conveying the brevity of death, while making its victim small. I think this felt like an important choice, obscuring the physical act of the suicide and putting distance between Watanabe and his friend. It also puts immense distance between Toru and Kizuki’s motivations, which I feel is another important obstacle for Toru to overcome throughout the novel. This is a through line that extends towards Naoko as well, starting off the novel with such an intense moment though seemingly incomprehensible. 

The movie, however, takes another stance, explicitly depicting the suicide of Kizuki in what feels like the longest shot in the film thus far, explicitly showing Kizuki taping the gaps on the window while the hose hangs into the car. This scene disturbs a lot of the opacity the book gives, I feel. It highlights just how intentional the act is, and how much planning and time this act truly required. It takes time for Kizuki to commit suicide. It takes time and each moment it feels, in real time, he is making the continuous effort and choice to kill himself. I am not sure if I liked this choice as much as the way it was conveyed in the novel. It takes away from some of the themes of Norwegian Wood. I think, it feels these characters are living on the border of life and death, where at any point they can be pulled into the ether easily. The choice to explicitly depict his death definitely disturbs this a bit, but also does take away some of the romanticization, highlighting the reality of the situation.

I also wish the birthday scene was a bit more drawn out. I was excited to see the rush conversation that Naoko is described as producing in the novel. I feel like that was relevant, especially in the end, when she has a similar rush of dialogue with Reiko. The pacing was a bit fast, I think what also makes Watanabe's actions and feelings more understandable is his extreme solitude and quiet contemplation. I do think this would be difficult considering the time limitations of a movie, but I would love to see how they convey his loneliness towards the end of the story. 

 This is not to say I didn’t thoroughly enjoy the movie so far. It was so beautifully shot. Each scene looked like a beautiful photograph. The sound design was amazing too. I loved the the chants of the protestors, the summer cicadas, and the sounds of the rain. I think that way, the movie captures the ambiance and setting so well. The direction was also so dynamic and interesting: the shot of Toru’s quick reflections and him running up the winding staircase after receiving Noako’s letter. The actors and actresses I also loved. I feel like they truly embodied the characters so well, especially Naoko. Overall I really loved the movie and wanted to finish watching it. Some small changes stuck out to me, but otherwise, I feel the movie is strong so far, and stands on its own as a coming of age tale. 

Isabella

Thoughts about the movie

One of the biggest problems I had with the film adaptation was the casting. The actress who played Naoko was especially disappointing to me. When I read the novel, I imagined Naoko as someone pure, fragile, and almost otherworldly. In the film, however, she did not give that impression at all. Her expression often felt empty in a way that made her seem less like a delicate young woman and more like someone who had already been worn down by many years of suffering. This completely changed the feeling of her character for me. 

Midori was also very different from how I pictured her in the book. In the novel, she has a playful charm, but the film did not really capture that side of her. Instead, she came across as too elegant and fashionable. Details like her sunglasses and the way she spoke made her feel much more polished than the Midori Murakami described. The only character I thought fit my impression fairly closely was Kizuki. Even though he dies at the very beginning, his appearance and presence matched the image I had while reading. The car suicide scene also conveyed a real sense of struggle.

Another weakness of the film is the way it handles the other characters and the flow of the story. I understand that a movie has limited time and cannot develop every side character as fully as a novel can. However, some characters, such as Storm Trooper, appear so briefly and strangely that their scenes may feel confusing, especially for audiences who have not read the book. More broadly, the entire film often feels like a sequence of disconnected images rather than a continuous story. At times, the transition from one scene to the next feels abrupt and almost random. For example, one moment Storm Trooper is by Toru's bed, and the next moment Toru is in a bar talking with Nagasawa about girls. Because of this, the film loses the emotional and narrative continuity that makes the novel powerful. In my opinion, these details were handled poorly, and in some cases it might actually have been better to leave them out rather than include them in such an incomplete way.

- Wendy

Thoughts on Norwegian Wood: The Movie

Even though we only watched 50 minutes of the Norwegian Wood movie in class, there were many things that I noticed that came across as interesting. First, the beginning felt more like a montage rather than a movie where we are just hit with scenes after scene after scene. We go from Toru, Naoko, and Kizuki, to Toru and Kizuki's pool game, to Kizuki's suicide all within a matter of 5 minutes. This feeling continues throughout the movie where it seems like a bunch of information that is barely held together is just thrown at the audience. For example, Stormtrooper plays a much lesser role in the movie, as we only see him twice before he leaves and also never get to hear his name. The same goes for Nagasawa. We don't get the scene where he finds Toru reading the Great Gatsby and how that moment kick started their friendship. All we see is that the two of them are already friends. This opening felt rather rushed and if we hadn't read the book in class, I would not have been able to understand what was happening. Many people say to read the book instead of watching the movie, but for Norwegian Wood it is a necessity. 

There were other parts that were either completely skipped over, or just different from the book. The meeting with Midori again seems rushed, but then we cut straight to when they meet up after she ghosted him at lunch, which then cuts straight into when she invites him over for food. Similarly, he gives her pink and white flowers in the movie while in the book he gives her daffodils.

I also noticed how important of a role music plays in the film. Almost every scene was set to some background track, ambient noise, or the shouts of the student protest. To me, this seems like a good way to captivate Murakami's obsession with music from his novels. While reading, it can be hard to visualize what a mentioned song is if you've never heard it before and no one is going to take the time to look each song up and listen to them before getting back into reading. Therefore I feel this element and the sound design are one of the more well executed aspects of the movie from the half we have seen so far. 

- Angus Black

When grief doesn't seem like grief

 One thing that was interesting to me was the portrayal of grief in Norwegian Wood. The novel gives Toru a voice that seems calm and controlled most of the time, sometimes too much that it can feel unsettling to the reader. This calmness makes it seem like he is narrating almost as if he's describing someone else's life rather than his own. That distance reads less like indifference and more like coping, and staying detached is the only way he can keep moving forward. I've noticed how Murakami doesn't treat grief like a single emotion, as it shows up as a whole shift in how Toru experiences the world. He can still go to school, talk to people and follow routines but even then, everything feels slightly hollow, as if he was functioning on autopilot. When the novel returns to Kizuki's death, it becomes clear that the loss isn't just about sad memories, it's something that permanently changes the atmosphere around Toru and Naoko. With Nook specially, grief feels like being stuck in a certain place or time, like everything in her life paused at the moment. Being with her pulls Toru into the same space, even when he tries to stay rational.

- Shurun Li

Thomas Weber Post 2 - Finishing Norwegian Wood

     This book definitely marked. To be more specific, the atmosphere that it created through Murakami's natural surrealist style of description, the characters innate humanity, and the unabashed strangeness of each relationship created a comprehensive story that I felt encapsulated a person's coming of age very well. Murakami let his characters exist in harsh narratives without giving them excuses or pathways out that would seem easy. 

     The most interesting part of this novel, in my opinion, is Toru's relationship with death. Something that marks every major moment in the story. Whilst not explicitly said till towards the end of the book. There always existed this sort of detachment and distance that Toru seemed to create that wasn't just a part of his innate personality. But something formed by his relationship to Kizuki's death. Fundamentally, I think that this is what makes Toru so different from a character like Nagasawa. Toru isn't someone who exists without worries of others perception, instead existing within the framework of death within life. Constantly recognizing the impermanence of life, which often leads to "aloofness," and accepting his inability to control the world around him.

    Outside of the direct scope of the book, I greatly appreciate its very sensitive description of suicide and the complexities of keeping on living after having lost someone to themselves. Throughout the book, death and suicide seems to be presented as not only a moment of great sadness, often pausing the lives of those around them, but also as a transition. Throughout every death someone moves forward in some way. Whether in Midori moving from her parents bookstore to "live a fuller life" or Reiko moving form the sanitorium after Naoko died. This book emphasizes the beauty of death in its ability to present people with the impermanence of their own lives and breaking their "protective bubbles."

    I truly enjoyed reading this novel, even with all its strange sex descriptions and awkward moments, feeling its sincerity bleeding through every page. 

Norwegian Wood: Realism or Illusion?

Norwegian Wood stands apart from both Haruki Murakami's earlier and later works. It lacks the abstract symbolism of A Wild Sheep Chase and the magical realism of Killing Commendatore. In many ways, it is the first and only novel in Murakami's career with a distinctly realist sensibility. Yet upon finishing it a second time, I found it far richer than the impressions left by my first reading, when it had seemed a straightforward coming-of-age love story. Beneath its realist surface, the novel conceals a quiet idealism and a current of deeper allegory.

When I first encountered Ami Hostel in the novel, my mind did not leap to the sanatorium in Thomas Mann's The Magic Mountain (though that novel is repeatedly referenced when Boku visits) but rather to a celebrated classical Chinese text: Taohuayuan Ji (The Peach Blossom Spring), written by Tao Yuanming around the fifth century CE. In it, a fisherman passes through a narrow mountain gorge and stumbles upon a hidden community, completely cut off from the outside world, where the people live in self-sufficiency and quiet contentment, untouched by the chaos beyond.

The parallels between Ami Hostel and the Peach Blossom land are striking: both are self-sufficient and isolated from the outside world; both are insulated from external political turbulence; and in both, the inhabitants live peacefully, with little desire to leave. Crucially, after centuries of scholarly debate, the Peach Blossom Spring is now widely understood not as a real place, but as a utopian ideal ---- a world that exists only in the imagination. Reading Norwegian Wood a second time with this in mind, I began to wonder whether Ami Hostel might similarly function not as a literal setting, but as a utopian symbol.

Throughout Boku's time at Ami Hostel, various people tell him: "We are all honest here, we say everything that is on our minds"(Ch.6). On the surface, this speaks to a kind of radical transparency, a community free from concealment and pretense. But as the remark is repeated: casually, insistently, by person after person, it begins to feel less like reassurance and more like warning.

Adding to this unease is a telling exchange in which Boku asks Naoko whether anyone ever wants to leave. She replies that almost no one does, and that those who do leave cannot come back. Taken together, these details suggest a darker possibility: that the residents of Ami Hostel are not honest because they have genuinely chosen openness, but because dishonesty carries the threat of expulsion, and no one is willing to risk that. What presents itself as a virtue, then, may in fact be a form of enforced compliance.

Yet for all its apparent calm and beauty, Ami Hostel is not truly a place one could long for. A comfortable life, for human beings, is not reducible to mere survival, it must be filled with something more: genuine connection with others, the honest exchange of feeling, the friction and warmth of real relationships. We are, at our core, social animals.

Boran