License to Live

In a quiet rural region where the rhythm of life still carries the scent of fields and the soft trot of ponies, a man awakens from a decade‑long coma to discover that the world has continued without him. The film opens with a gentle, contemplative tone, letting the landscape itself speak to the quiet longing that lives beneath the surface of everyday chores and distant horizons.

Yutaka Yoshii steps back into a life that feels both familiar and alien. Though his body now bears the strength of an adult, his mind holds the bewildered curiosity of a child who has missed the crucial years of growth. The audience watches him navigate the bewildering gap between memory and present, his interactions tinged with both awkwardness and a fragile hope. An older, solitary friend named Fujimori becomes the first bridge to this new reality, offering Yutaka a place on the family’s old plot where a fish farm hums beneath the open sky.

Family ties surface in tentative fragments: a father who has moved on, a mother who works in a cloth shop, and a sister whose own plans pull her toward distant shores. Each reunion carries a mixture of awkward reunion and unspoken yearning, underscoring the film’s focus on connection and the quiet ways people try to rebuild what time has frayed. Amid these subtle dynamics, Yutaka feels an almost instinctual pull toward the neglected pony farm that once defined his childhood.

The prospect of reviving the pony farm becomes more than a simple project; it is a quiet act of reclaiming identity, a way to stitch together the scattered pieces of his past and present. The tone remains introspective, inviting viewers to linger on the simple beauty of renewal, the tentative steps toward belonging, and the gentle promise that even after long silence, a new rhythm can be found.

Last Updated: October 27, 2025 at 16:31