Welcome to the first edition of Add to Queue, where I recommend something worth your time, a movie, book, show, or maybe even a random YouTube rabbit hole. Think of it as me saving you from the endless scroll of “what should I watch/read/do/eat next?” by just pointing at something and saying: this one, trust me.
This week, we’re starting with a Japanese movie binge. Hopefully, I won’t be flaky and can make this a regular thing, but no promises.
Note from 2025 Me: I originally wrote this back in 2020, you know, the year we were all panic-baking banana bread and sanitizing Amazon boxes. At the time, I stumbled into these two Japanese movies that felt like a warm blanket for the soul. Reading this again, I realized they still hold up in 2025 (minus the part where I thought I’d start a cooking series on the blog… spoiler: I did not). So here’s a slightly polished rehash from the archives, with a few updates.
A few years ago, my entire knowledge of Japanese movies could be summed up like this: “The Japanese version is always better than the Hollywood version”, at least when it came to horror movies. And that was that. I never ventured much into Japanese horror, because someone who watches scary movies through the tiny gap between their fingers over their eyes probably shouldn’t be attempting to read subtitles at the same time. (Picture me squinting and hiding, simultaneously missing the ghost and the dialogue.)
But I do watch a lot of Japanese non-horror movies, and I stumbled across two that I can’t stop thinking about. Technically, they’re separate films, but they feel like two parts of a single story, the kind of slow-burn binge watch minus the guilt. (Maybe?)
The story follows Ichiko, who returns to her hometown, Komori, a quiet rural village after failing to “make it” in the city. She moves back to farm, cook, and live off the land, just like generations of townspeople before her. The movies span a full year, covering all four seasons, and each season focuses on Ichiko farming and preparing meals from her own produce. The best part? Each season comes with at least seven recipes, which you could actually try yourself. (I may or may not be plotting a blog series based on that idea…)
And to break her single, solitary life, you also see her interacting with her childhood friends and neighbors who drop by. Ichiko also narrates the story, at certain points. The pace of the movie is slow and combined with her voice-over and her peaceful life in her village, this movie is so soothing and reassuring, especially in these times. I also loved how food was used to transport us back to memories.
There’s a scene where she’s making silverberry jam, which takes her back to her city days, preparing it for her then-boyfriend. Another shows her struggling to recreate a recipe her mother used to make, prompting her to revisit childhood memories to figure out what her mom did differently. It’s fascinating to see how our tastes and food habits are shaped by weather, culture, and childhood, and the movie captures all of that with grace.
The direction is stunning. Jun’ichi Mori does justice to the village’s landscapes and treats food with reverence, the kind of reverence where you actually hear the satisfying crunch of fresh homemade bread, and yes, I may have hit rewind to enjoy it again.
In short, this is a movie I’d recommend to anyone interested in food, human emotions, or a little bit of nostalgia mixed with rural simplicity.
PS: The films are based on a slice-of-life manga by Daisuke Igarashi. Who knew manga wasn’t all dark, dramatic, action-packed stuff? I certainly didn’t, at least not until Midnight Diner.
Edited to add: I realized I never gave you the full movie titles (*faceplam*)
Little Forest: Summer/Autumn(2014)
Little Forest: Winter/Spring (2015)