She even records her message before a suicide attempt, but the film doesn’t stay with it a second longer than it should. She’s back on the saddle in the next scene. The camera captures her falling face while she politely seeks the support of an officer on the phone, even as he starts flirting with her. The irony is never spelt out, which in turn lends a sense of looming defeat to her scuffle. But it also leaves space for a moment where she begins another call cautiously – expecting something similar from a doorman whose testimony is crucial – only to be moved to tears by his unwavering support. In terms of chronicling the deep-rooted discrimination of society, Ito leaves nothing to chance. We hear sound bytes of all the slut-shaming and finger-wagging across media coverage. Her attire for the 2017 press conference – where she bravely goes public – is criticized. A mysterious black van seems to be stationed outside a friend’s apartment where Ito temporarily resides. Every casual chat at home is laced with the anxiety of becoming a symbol, and an individual elevated to the silhouettes of socio-cultural heroism.
Growing into Defiance
Ultimately, it’s her self-awareness – and her power to excavate her own being as a writer – that remains the enduring strength of this documentary. For instance, one of the more haunting moments features Ito speaking to a hall of veteran journalists. She breaks down while describing how the beauty of cherry blossoms is now lost on her because the incident happened during the season. At another point, she playfully reflects on the strangeness of calling customer service to order a…wire detector. Ever so often, her pain adopts these contours of art – the editing of her book, the composition of her blogs and voice-overs, her exchanges with friends and lawyers, her relationship with the lens. The bitterness is therefore tamed by an urgency to construct a case without compromising on a life.
As a result, we see Shiori Ito grow – nervously, determinedly, slowly – through the documentary. She comes to peace with the knowledge of her own truth and trauma, consistently finding ways to present herself through the eyes of a memoirist reporting on her relationship with herself. It’s a tightrope walk that can sway from privilege to burden in an instant; the limitless bravery of her youth gradually gives way to a quiet commitment to the truth. Her favourite anthem, Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive,” then goes hand in glove with her quest to treat justice as a medium of loss and empowerment. There is no winning, even when there is. But at least the soundtrack of defiance has a story to score.