Asura Review: A Bold and Visually Stunning Celebration of Women

“Is it really happiness for women like us to live without making waves?“

That’s the major dramatic question that permeates Asura, Koreeda Hirokazu’s latest endeavour with Netflix. Asura was released without much fanfare last Thursday but has been warmly received by audiences and critics alike since then.

This is far from being Koreeda’s first project with Netflix. Almost two years ago exactly, he directed the extraordinary The Makanai: Cooking for the Maiko House. Still focused on women but in a considerably more complicated setting, Asura brings Koreeda back to our small screens with a story originally penned by the legendary Mukoda Kuniko.

Asura is a remake of Ashura no Gotoku, a seven-episode series written by Mukoda that came out on NHK in 1979. The show defined the entire family drama genre on Japanese television and was later published as a novel. Then, in 2003, Morita Yoshimitsu released his own version of the story in Like Asura. Over 45 years after Ashura no Gotoku, we’re blessed with Koreeda’s amusing, vivid, and thoroughly engrossing version, which he wrote, directed, and edited himself.

Set in the late 70s, Asura follows Takezawa Tsunako (Miyazawa Rie), Makiko (Ono Machiko), Takiko (Aoi Yu), and Sakiko (Hirose Suzu), four sisters who suspect their father Kotaro (Kunimura Jun) has a lover and a child. Their mother, Fuji (Matsuzaka Keiko), doesn’t seem to know about it. They then decide to keep their ageing father’s affair a secret for their mother’s sake. As they understand how to deal with this reality, their own secrets start coming to light.

This review is spoiler-free. I hope you enjoy it! But if you don’t have time for it all, why not pin our spoiler-free summary at the bottom?

Celebrating Women: Asura & Sexism

The epitome of character-driven storytelling, Asura celebrates women through complex female characters who quietly yet passionately try to understand who they are and what they want in a misogynistic, patriarchal society.

Asura is drenched in sexism — women and men are constantly expected to be stereotyped beings. Throughout its seven episodes, even the most casual of all chit-chat is peppered with comments about how men and women are “bound” to be.

I can’t speak for an audience from the 80s, but I can tell you for sure that, for a contemporary female audience, Asura hurts at times. It frustrates, angers, and sickens. Men are constantly victimising themselves as they live a life that is bursting at the seams with forgiving attitudes, allowing them the freedom to do whatever they please — regardless of the consequences. Sexism is an intrinsic part of the social fabric where male entitlement is designed to confine, blame, and judge women.

The lives of the Takezawa sisters are littered with gender roles and expectations. Women, raised to become meek mothers and housewives, are naturally brainwashed into believing this is how the world works. And it hurts. It hurts to see women blaming, belittling, and arguing with fellow women. They are a byproduct of their time: they were taught to perpetuate certain beliefs and behaviours.

When their rebellion, however, springs into action, Asura allows its female characters to blossom into flawed and nuanced beings who are instinctively more than what society dictates they should be. Women in Asura are powerful, vibrant, and determined, but they are also fearful, naive, and jealous.

They are human.

They battle not only the society around them but also the scars it gives them. As they navigate pain and joy, they are the ones in charge of propelling the plot forward. Every single one of their steps, regardless of how miscalculated they can be, is clearly motivated and represents who they are as individuals. Whether or not the world wants them to, they are constantly creating ripples in their realities. And so, despite the moulds they are held in, they create their own unique identities.

The Complexity of Human Connection

Asura also highlights the beauty and the intricacy of human connection, exploring the many layers of the relationships between siblings, parents and children, husbands and wives, and also between lovers. Nothing is ever black and white in Asura, but a marvellous, infinite range of colours that allows for fluid combinations.

Tsunako, Makiko, Takiko, and Sakiko love each other as much as they irritate each other. They wholeheartedly agree but bitterly disagree; they are the same but complete opposites. Regardless of the identities they have developed as they grew up (and got married), their unwavering sisterhood ties them together and gives them a place they will always belong to.

Their family dynamics also include their parents, of course. The four women do their best to protect and appreciate their mother, and only later do they realise that their mother was doing the same for them. Their father receives an even wider range of emotions: love, anger, disgust, understanding, gratitude. The characters’ bonds make it impossible to categorise them into heroes and villains, right and wrong. Their portrayals are more complicated, matching their relationships that change day by day, naturally shifting according to the day’s challenge. The same happens outside the Takezawa household: filial bonds also shine in all their colours through the portrayal of Makiko and her teenage daughter, and Tsunako and her grown-up son.

Giving Extramarital Affairs an Active Role in the Narrative

Asura is full of (confirmed and rumoured) love affairs. Throughout history, it’s said that the attitude towards extramarital affairs in Japan comes from the fact that marriage plays a functional, and not romantic, role in society. People get married because they have to, not because they want to. Women are taught to have sex because they need to become mothers, not because of any sexual desire. For these (and other) reasons, affairs are a natural way to get the emotional and sexual needs that these people — excuse me, these men — don’t get from their marriage. However, Asura turns that perspective on its head by presenting us with women who have, in fact, emotional and sexual desires that men just refuse to see and accept.

Unexpectedly sensual, Asura quivers with sexual tension in every single episode (without a single sex scene whatsoever). Sexuality is a constant presence that helps illustrate both the roles that are imposed on women and the means they have to fight against them.

Take Takiko as an example. Unlike her sisters, who are much more open about sex and desire, Takiko feels confined by the idea that she’s never been “pretty enough”. She lacks self-esteem, which she tries to mask with an extremely conservative nature. She’s scared of her desires as if she doesn’t have the right to want someone or be wanted. As she finds a partner in Katsumata (Matsuda Ryuhei), she’s forced to fight her own fears and preconceived notions. The relationship between Katsumata and Takiko is actually a breath of fresh air in Asura, a couple that proposes the innocence and purity of an almost idealistic romance in a world that surrounds them with cynicism.

Cynicism is justified in Asura: after all, cheating is an intrinsic part of the narrative.

However, cheating is not all black and white here, either. Cheating is shown through all possible angles: from the people involved in the affair to the people who have to deal with the consequences of such. It isn’t glorified or constantly criticised. It isn’t exactly forgiven or condemned. Instead, it’s a tool that works to constrain women once again. Men can cheat, but women can’t — and if they do, the consequences and judgment they face are much worse. Women can’t show dissatisfaction with their marriages — why should they when it’s their husbands who “work hard to provide and care for their families”?

As wives, women stop being lovers to become servants and child-bearers, and these roles lead to loneliness, sadness, jealousy, and anger that aren’t validated by the patriarchal society these women find themselves in. These women grin and bear it. They find their own ways of coping with it — whether that is to become a lover herself, to quietly but markedly convey her anger, or to fiercely resist men’s immaturity. Is it because we’re in 1979? Or because of the “gaman, shikatanai” culture (put up with it, there’s nothing we can do about it) that permeates Japanese society? Asura doesn’t explain it — there’s no need to — but illustrates it flawlessly.

And that’s the magic of Asura. Naturally, its women are remarkably strong and resilient beings. But that doesn’t weaken their male counterparts in any way, and here’s where the satire and social commentary become even stronger. Men in Asura design their own paths: they might be lousy and shameless, but that’s how they choose to be. The male characters box themselves into inflexible categories. It’s they who distort communication and spread stereotypes that push the women around them further away. It’s they who show limited understanding while trying to fake stoicism and power. Women don’t need to say or do anything: it’s there, clear as day. In the end, Asura gives its characters the freedom they need to define their own personas.

How Koreeda Ingeniously (and Emotionally) Directs Asura

Asura is visually and narratively stunning. Koreeda’s cinematography is, as usual, of outstanding skill: his compositions highlight relationships and emotions, and his use of colour and light not only re-creates a period of history but also illustrates the characters’ internal conflicts.

Koreeda’s ability for emotional storytelling is almost impossible to match. His lenses embrace his characters, understanding their strengths and weaknesses and allowing them to show their kaleidoscopic natures. He navigates the characters’ dynamics, within themselves and with one another, with elegance and tenderness, infusing every single detail with meaning.

In a way, Asura proves that Koreeda does remind us of the legendary Ozu. He knows exactly what to show to the camera and what not to, sensing that some developments are better relayed away from the audience’s eyes. He paints his characters with warmth and empathy by finding the beauty in the quotidian. 

Koreeda also takes full advantage of the cultural richness that Japan has to offer, not only showing but actively using uniquely Japanese elements in the narrative. From Bunraku and Noh theatre to the shape of an onigiri, Koreeda designs a story that resonates universally, but it’s entirely and exclusively Japanese.

The Role of Food in the Story

Actually, food plays a huge role in Asura. Characters laugh, fight, and reveal themselves over shared meals and lonely snacks. The very first episode ends with an exceptional scene in which the Takezawas have dinner together. The entire show can be summarised with that three-minute scene: you understand who your characters are, what their dynamic is like, and the adventure you’re about to embark on alongside them. Asura is indeed an adventure, a portrayal of the highs and lows of these women as they challenge hypocrisy, ego, and societal pressure on their journey towards happiness.

Performances and Script: The Strengths and Weaknesses of Asura

The entire cast offers phenomenal performances, delivering a sharp and fast-paced dialogue that gives the show a resounding rhythm despite its ordinary slice-of-life nature. Asura draws a constellation of endlessly captivating characters who laugh and cry together, who love and hate in equal measures, but most importantly, who feel incredibly alive. They entertain, move, and upset us — and we can’t let them go. The bustling universe of Asura carries its own peculiar personality, delicately yet resolutely pulling us into every moment of its characters’ lives, no matter how joyful or tragic.

The first three episodes are perfect in every way, and if Koreeda wanted to make a film out of the show, they would make for a perfect feature. The other four episodes miss a couple of beats here and there. But the lull doesn’t distract us too much. Instead, these episodes allow the script to test the characters’ limits and willingness to grow. Even though the story could’ve been told in fewer episodes, Asura‘s runtime gives room for the story to breathe.

Should You Watch Asura?

Showing acute and incisive awareness of its subject, Asura is an equally elegant and chaotic celebration of women. Through an excellent cast, stunning cinematography, and compelling storytelling, Asura offers well-rounded characters that both abide by and challenge convention. If you’re sensitive to the topic of love affairs, it might be a bit of an uncomfortable watch. But Asura doesn’t shy away from using it to cleverly serve the narrative. From the quiet to the most emotional moments, from the extraordinary to the mundane, the Takezawa sisters never fail to charm us. 

The women in Asura might not be making waves, but the ripples they create are more than enough to change their little world. And with every step they take, they prove that women will never be tamed.

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