Megane (2007) Review – The Landscape You See Only When You Let Everything Go

A visual symbol of comfort and slowness: the iconic image from Ogigami Naoko's restful film, Megane.

🎥 Film Overview

Detail	Information
Title	Megane (めがね / Glasses)
Director	Naoko Ogigami
Screenplay	Naoko Ogigami
Genre	Drama, Comedy, Healing Cinema (Iyashi-kei)
Release Date	September 22, 2007 (Japan)
Runtime	106 minutes (1h 46m)
Country	Japan
Language	Japanese
Cast	Satomi Kobayashi (Taeko), Masako Motai (Sakura), Mikako Ichikawa (Haruna), Ken Mitsuishi (Yuji), Ryô Kase (Yomogi)
Filming Location	Yoron Island, Kagoshima Prefecture (southernmost Japan)
Cinematography	Tanimine Noboru
Music	Taeko Onuki
Production Company	Nippon Television Network, Paradise Cafe
Rating	G (General Audiences)
Awards	Sundance Film Festival 2008 - Grand Jury Prize nomination; San Francisco International Film Festival selection
Note	Follow-up to Kamome Diner (2006); features same lead actresses (Kobayashi and Motai)

📖 Plot Summary

For those exhausted by a fast-paced world, Megane offers something rare: true comfort that asks nothing of you except to slow down.

Taeko (Satomi Kobayashi), a stressed university professor from the city, arrives at a remote island inn seeking solitude and escape. She drags an enormous suitcase behind her, stuffed with everything she thinks she might need—laptop, books, plans, structure. She expects to be left alone, to maintain control, to rest on her own terms.

Instead, she finds Yuji (Ken Mitsuishi), the extraordinarily laid-back inn owner who hasn't had a spring guest in three years and makes his sign deliberately small to keep the place secret. She encounters Haruna (Mikako Ichikawa), a high school biology teacher who sighs about the absence of cute boys. And most significantly, she meets Sakura (Masako Motai), a mysterious older woman who runs a shaved ice stand in spring—charging no money—and who takes the liberty of sitting in Taeko's room, entering without knocking, and waking her by simply watching her sleep.

The island confuses Taeko with its unfamiliar slowness. Cell phones don't work here. There are no tourist attractions. Every morning, the residents gather on the beach for "Merci Exercise"—a bizarre ritual of arm-waving and stretching that seems to have no purpose except greeting the day together. Her stiff expression watching these strange people perform their incomprehensible routine vividly shows just how bewildered Taeko is by this rhythm so alien to her controlled, efficient urban existence.

When she tries to escape to another hotel, she discovers it requires guests to work in the fields during the day—hardly the pampered vacation she imagined. Sheepishly, she returns to Yuji's inn, and something begins to shift.

Through shared meals, through a bowl of shaved ice that tastes like childhood, through the repetitive, tranquil daily life, Taeko begins discovering what Yuji calls "the talent to be here"—the aesthetics of letting go. Her shoulders, which had resisted the slow rhythm, gradually relax. Awkwardly at first, she joins the Merci Exercise line. And in that surrender to something seemingly absurd, she awakens to what Sakura quietly calls true freedom.

🌸 Key Themes

Tasogare (たそがれ) – The Time That Lingers Like Twilight

The film's core concept is tasogare, a Japanese word that literally means twilight but here refers to something deeper: "a state of existing blankly, doing nothing." It captures the moment when the mind slowly relaxes, like being dyed in twilight colors, existing in a liminal space between day and night, activity and rest, purpose and purposelessness.

When Taeko first arrives on the island, she's trapped by the modern obsession that she must constantly be doing something productive. She tries to open her laptop, check her phone (which doesn't work), make plans for how to spend her time efficiently. But the island people simply gaze at the sea, eat shaved ice, walk on the beach—without any agenda, without any goal beyond the act itself.

The moment Taeko finally puts down her laptop and phone—the moment she stops trying to control or optimize her experience—the audience also slows down. That moment is tasogare itself. The film whispers a radical truth our fast-paced world has forgotten: even in time spent blankly, life flows on. And that flowing, that simple existing, has its own profound value.

A moment of twilight that lingers quietly, like a gentle breath over the sea

Merci Exercise – The Comfort of Connection Through Ritual

The "Merci Exercise" performed on the beach every morning becomes the film's iconic image and its emotional center. When Taeko first witnesses this ritual, her expression is pure bewilderment: What is this? Why are they doing this? What's the point? This strange exercise, which seems to have no efficiency or measurable benefit, represents everything alien to her urban, goal-oriented mindset.

But after a few days, Taeko cautiously joins the exercise line. Awkward and clumsy, she begins learning for the first time how to live slowly together with others. What matters isn't the exercise's effectiveness or results—it's the preciousness of greeting the morning together, of shared movement, of simple togetherness without expectation or demand. This scene, both comical and profoundly warm, embodies Ogigami's gentle humor and her message to modern people: community doesn't require grand gestures or deep conversations. Sometimes it's just people waving their arms on a beach, together.

A visual representation of the soothing 'Merci Gymnastics' from 'Megane'.

Minimalism and Food – The Happiness Found in Simplicity

Megane frequently features meal scenes stripped of excess—shaved ice (kakigōri), simple side dishes, uncluttered tables. This visual and culinary minimalism functions as a form of meditation, inviting viewers to notice what remains when everything unnecessary is removed.

Especially significant is the bowl of shaved ice Sakura offers Taeko—it's not just a snack but a silent invitation to let go of complexity and embrace simplicity. At first, Taeko can't properly taste the syrup or feel the texture of the ice. She's too tense, too defended, too much in her head. But gradually, as she relaxes, she begins to smile at that simple sweetness. This transformation—from inability to taste to genuine pleasure in something uncomplicated—mirrors her entire journey on the island.

Like Ogigami's previous film Kamome Diner, Megane awakens "simple happiness" in a complex world through humble food and uncluttered spaces. Both films argue that pleasure doesn't require sophistication or luxury—sometimes the most profound satisfaction comes from the most basic things, experienced with full presence.

Glasses as Symbol – A New Lens to View the World

The film's title Megane (Glasses) functions as both literal detail (everyone on the island wears glasses) and rich metaphor. Glasses represent how we see the world—our perspective, our pace, our filters.

At first, Taeko pushes up her black horn-rimmed glasses and views the world with tense, defensive eyes. Her glasses are like a boundary with the world, a tool that simultaneously protects her and isolates her from genuine experience. She sees the island through the lens of judgment, efficiency, and control.

But within the island's unhurried rhythm, her glasses gradually change meaning. They're no longer armor against the world but become a new lens to view the world leisurely, to notice beauty rather than catalog problems. Even the gesture of adjusting her glasses slows down. Her gaze, once quick and assessing, turns toward the distant horizon and rests there without urgency.

💭 Personal Reflection

Our lives often run like machines that never stop. We rush through our days as if everything will collapse if we pause for even a moment, as if the gears must constantly turn or all will be lost.

But consider this: even if we don't frantically move, spring will still give way to summer. Autumn and winter will follow in their natural order. The world turns at its slowest pace, perfectly, without our anxious intervention.

How liberating it would be to let everything go. Yet ironically, we humans seem unable to do exactly that. While we hesitate to release our grip, we miss the beauty offered by that wondrous slowness.

I don't want to face this unhappiness any longer.

The unhappiness of being too busy to notice the lilac fragrance on a spring day. Of blocking out the cicadas' summer song with noise. Of covering my eyes and missing autumn's golden fields. Of failing to meet winter's white fairies because I was rushing somewhere I thought was more important.

What we lose in our frantic productivity is nothing less than life itself—the sensory richness, the seasonal beauty, the small miracles that happen when we're present enough to notice them.

This film whispers to us: Put down your burden for a while. Give yourself time to simply exist, and discover that existing is enough. Megane offers the slowest, warmest comfort: the world will be fine even if you're not constantly moving. In fact, you'll finally see the world clearly only when you stop.

바쁘게 움직이지 않아도 세상은 괜찮다는, 가장 느리고 가장 따뜻한 위로.

(A reflection in my native Korean—because some truths about rest and letting go feel truer in the language of your heart.)

🎬 What Makes This Film Special

Naoko Ogigami's Signature Healing Style

Megane represents the full realization of Ogigami's iyashi-kei (healing style) aesthetic that made Kamome Diner such a quiet sensation. Her direction is characterized by extraordinary restraint—she refuses to manipulate emotions through swelling music or manufactured drama. Instead, she trusts in the power of blank space, silence, and lingering shots that allow viewers to breathe along with the characters. The film's deliberately slow pace (Ogigami famously issued a "sleep warning" at festival screenings, implying such rest was in keeping with the film's spirit) creates space for genuine relaxation and contemplation rather than passive entertainment.

Satomi Kobayashi and Masako Motai's Reunited Chemistry

Lead actresses Satomi Kobayashi and Masako Motai, reuniting after Kamome Diner, bring depth and warmth to their roles without relying on dramatic acting. Kobayashi's Taeko undergoes a subtle transformation—from rigid defensiveness to tentative openness to genuine relaxation—entirely through small physical changes and facial expressions. Motai's Sakura is enigmatic and serene, projecting wisdom without ever becoming preachy or saintly. Their chemistry, along with the supporting cast's naturalistic performances, makes the island community feel utterly authentic.

The Island Setting as Character

Yoron Island, located at the southernmost tip of Kagoshima Prefecture, becomes as important as any human character. Cinematographer Tanimine Noboru captures empty white beaches, luminous turquoise seas, verdant country roads, and vast open skies with such loving attention that the island itself feels like an invitation. The setting isn't generic tropical paradise—it's specific, unhurried, and imbued with a particular quality of light and space that makes slowness feel natural rather than forced. The island's beauty isn't dramatic or exotic; it's gentle and accessible, suggesting that this kind of peace is available to anyone willing to seek it.

Taeko Onuki's Understated Score

Composer Taeko Onuki creates a soundtrack that enhances rather than dominates, using gentle acoustic guitar, subtle piano, and spacious arrangements that mirror the film's aesthetic. The music never tells you what to feel—instead, it creates atmosphere, supporting the contemplative mood without intrusion. This restraint allows the natural sounds of the island—waves, wind, cicadas, silence—to become part of the film's emotional texture.

The Art of Doing Nothing as Radical Act

What makes Megane truly special and even countercultural is its insistence that doing nothing is not laziness, waste, or failure—it's a skill, a talent, something to be learned and cultivated. In a world obsessed with productivity, optimization, and constant achievement, Ogigami's film offers radical resistance simply by showing people sitting on a beach, staring at the sky, eating shaved ice, and calling this a good day. The film argues that presence, not productivity, is what makes life worth living.

🎥 Behind the Scenes

Did You Know?

During production, director Naoko Ogigami realized after filming began that all the characters happened to be wearing glasses—a coincidence that led her to choose Megane as the film's title. This serendipitous detail became central to the film's symbolic meaning about perspective and seeing the world differently.

The film was nominated for the Grand Jury Prize at the 2008 Sundance Film Festival and selected for the San Francisco International Film Festival, introducing international audiences to Ogigami's unique healing cinema aesthetic. At the San Francisco screening, Ogigami famously issued a "sleep warning" to the audience, suggesting that falling asleep during the film was perfectly acceptable and even in accordance with its spirit—a delightfully subversive stance for a filmmaker.

Yoron Island, where the film was shot, experienced increased tourism after the film's release as viewers sought to experience the island's healing atmosphere themselves. The island's tourism board embraced this, creating "Megane tours" that visit filming locations and recreate experiences from the film, including shaved ice at Sakura's stand and morning exercises on the beach.

Masako Motai and Satomi Kobayashi developed genuine friendship during the filming of Kamome Diner, which carried over into Megane. Their natural rapport on screen reflects real affection and understanding between the actresses, adding authenticity to their characters' relationship.

The film's plot is intentionally minimal—nothing dramatic happens, no conflicts are resolved, no mysteries are solved. This was Ogigami's deliberate choice, believing that conventional narrative structure with rising action and climax would work against the film's purpose of creating space for viewers to simply exist alongside the characters.

🎯 Who Should Watch This Film

✅ Anyone exhausted by fast-paced modern life who needs permission to rest
✅ Fans of contemplative, meditative cinema that prioritizes atmosphere over plot
✅ Lovers of Japanese iyashi-kei (healing style) films
✅ Those who can't stop thinking about work even on vacation
✅ Admirers of Naoko Ogigami's Kamome Diner seeking similar comfort
✅ People interested in minimalist aesthetics and the beauty of simplicity
✅ Anyone who's forgotten how to do nothing and needs reintroduction to the art
✅ Viewers seeking visual and emotional tranquility rather than stimulation

Note: This film is decidedly not for those seeking plot twists, dramatic conflict, or fast pacing. Megane requires patience and willingness to surrender to slowness—but for those who can, it offers profound restoration.

🌍 Where to Watch (2025)

Rent/Buy: Amazon Prime Video, Apple TV
Physical Media: Available on DVD with English subtitles via specialty retailers and international sellers
Streaming: Limited availability on mainstream platforms; occasionally appears on specialty streaming services focusing on world cinema

Note: Megane has had limited Western distribution but is more readily available in Japan and through international specialty retailers. The film is worth seeking out for fans of healing cinema. Check JustWatch for current availability in your region.

📝 Final Thoughts

Megane isn't simply a film—it's a meditation, an experience, an invitation to remember what we've forgotten in our frantic pursuit of productivity and achievement.

What makes this film enduringly special is its absolute conviction that slowness, blankness, and "doing nothing" have inherent value. Ogigami doesn't argue for this philosophically—she demonstrates it visually, emotionally, experientially. By the film's end, you don't just intellectually understand the concept of tasogare; you've felt it in your body, you've experienced the gradual relaxation of mind and muscle that comes from genuine rest.

The film's gift is its reminder that we're constantly moving through our days at someone else's pace—the pace demanded by work, by society, by internalized ideas of productivity and worth. But we can choose differently. We can, like Taeko, step off that treadmill for a moment and discover that the world continues perfectly well without our constant intervention. And in that space of not-doing, we might finally see clearly, taste fully, and exist completely.

Megane asks a simple question: When was the last time you did nothing? Not scrolled through your phone, not caught up on tasks, not planned or worried or achieved—just existed, present in your body, aware of your breath, noticing the world around you?

For those of us who can barely remember, this film offers gentle guidance back to that state. It's the slowest, warmest comfort available—the promise that you're allowed to stop, that stopping isn't failure, and that in that stillness, you might discover what freedom actually feels like.

As Sakura says while standing reverently before a pot of beans: "It is important not to rush." This isn't just cooking advice—it's a philosophy for living that Megane embodies completely.

💬 Join the Conversation

Have you watched Megane? Did you find the slowness restful or frustrating? Have you ever experienced tasogare—that state of existing blankly, doing nothing? What helps you truly rest in our fast-paced world? And most importantly: when will you give yourself permission to do nothing? Share your thoughts in the comments below—I'd love to hear about your own journey toward slowness and presence.

🎬 More from Cinematic Sanctuaries

If you loved the healing slowness of Megane, explore more films offering similar comfort:

More Naoko Ogigami Films:

• Kamome Diner - Finding community through simple food in Helsinki
• Toilet - Another gentle meditation on finding peace in unexpected places

Healing Cinema:

• Little Forest - Seasonal rhythms and simple cooking in the countryside
• Our Little Sister - Hirokazu Kore-eda's portrait of sisterhood and belonging

Films About Slowing Down:

• Sweet Bean (An) - The patience required for traditional crafts
• Still Walking - A family reunion that unfolds at life's natural pace

Each film in our Cinematic Sanctuaries collection offers permission to exist at your own pace, reminding us that rest isn't laziness—it's wisdom.