Departures is nakedly manipulative. Its director, Yôjirô Takita, doesn’t show any sensitivity to tone or character. He aims to wring tears out of us by any means necessary, underlining every emotion with a blatancy that borders on shamelessness. Not content to let a scene play out, he cues big musical swells on the soundtrack and directs his actors to over-emote. Lots of tears flow. Lots of characters give longing looks. Scenes that might have been greatly moving if handled with restraint collapse under the weight of his heavy hand. He attacks you with feelings.

The opening scene is an unfortunate indication of what is to come. It starts beautifully, showing us Daigo (Masahiro Motoki) and his mentor Ikuei (Tsutomu Yamazaki) performing the meticulous ritual of preparing the deceased for burial: the careful cleaning of the body, the modest covering of the skin, the gentle dressing, and the application of makeup. The film holds its distance as it observes the reverence of the funeral rite.

But then it takes an unwelcome turn. Daigo feels something strange on the young woman’s body. She has … “a thing.” “A thing?” asks Ikuei. “A thing!” Ikuei reluctantly approaches the family and asks their wishes regarding the deceased’s gender, and the scene turns into a jarring comedy routine. It’s too abrupt to be particularly funny and no longer sensitive enough to work as drama.

Is Takita setting up a farce? For a while he seems to be. Many early scenes feature Motoki mugging in exaggerated reaction shots, as when Daigo, at the time a professional cellist, learns that his orchestra is being disbanded. And when he visits a public bathhouse to clean off the smell of a decomposed body, he fumbles the soap with overwrought slapstick gesticulations.

But eventually Takita settles on a style he likes: forced melodrama. He manufactures a conflict to create dramatic tension. Daigo, needing a change after the disappointment of his musical career, moves with his wife Mika (Ryoko Hirosue) to his hometown, where he responds to a vague classified ad in the newspaper seeking an inexperienced employee for work with “departures.” Thinking it’s a travel agency, he responds to the ad and is hired on the spot, but when he learns what the job really involves, he hides it from his friends and family.

Perhaps there are Japanese cultural taboos I am not privy to, but this feels like a false problem. Though a discomfort with death is universal, I’m hard-pressed to believe the reactions shown in this film. Upon learning the truth, an old childhood friend warns his daughter not to speak to Daigo. “People are talking,” he warns Daigo scornfully. Daigo has, it seems, created quite a scandal, but if death is sacred enough to require such a special ritual, why would those who perform the ritual be held in such contempt. “Don’t touch me! You’re unclean!” screams his wife, who up to that point had been loving and supportive. When did she become such a shrew? As soon as the screenplay required her to be.

The writer of the film is Kundô Koyama, who plots out every emotional beat so formulaically that the story feels calculated, artificial. He establishes a sad backstory for Daigo. His father left him when he was six-years-old. He can’t remember his face, but he’s held on to his last “stone-letter,” which is a rock whose texture is meant to convey the feelings of the giver. I wonder if the father made up that tradition because he couldn’t afford a real gift. I bestow unto you this rock, which is much more valuable than toys.

This isn’t a story. It’s the setup for a payoff. The stone, the father, and the new career will be resolved on cue before the film is over. Will Daigo’s friend and his wife Mika learn the importance of his vocation? Will Daigo be forced to confront his abandonment by his father? He wasn’t present in his son’s life, but is it possible that he … cared all along? You know the answers to these questions. You can predict the way Takita will try to pluck your heartstrings almost shot by shot. The film is a drinking game waiting to happen.

Departures won the 2009 Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film, upsetting France’s The Class and Israel’s Waltz with Bashir. I have not seen all the nominees, but I’ve seen The Class and Waltz with Bashir, and they’re vastly better films than this one, which also includes a montage that intercuts Daigo’s developing career with shots of him playing cello against a picturesque backdrop that lacks only Julie Andrews singing “The hills are alive …” Death is like a gateway, we’re told. If it’s a gateway to another movie, consider it a blessing.

Watch a trailer for the movie here: