Between Two Worlds: Dislocation And Identity In 'A Pale View of Hills'
- Luiza Helena Britton
- 3 minutes ago
- 5 min read
Nostalgia is a deeply human experience. But what happens when we romanticise the past to the point of reinventing it? In the film A Pale View of Hills, Kei Ishikawa invites the audience into the quiet world of Etsuko, a Japanese woman in England, whose bandages begin to unwrap as her youngest daughter, Niki, a young writer, itches to investigate her mother’s uncovered past. Kei Ishikawa asks the unsettling question of whether we can ever truly escape our past.
A Pale View of Hills, adapted from Kazuo Ishiguro’s 1982 novel of the same name, switches between the past and present like fragmented memories, and explores how both Etsuko and Japanese culture deal with the trauma of post-war Nagasaki. Through contrasts between Japan and England, both emotionally and visually, Ishiguro reveals that attempts to “move on” from the past only deepen the haunting presence of nostalgia.
Nostalgia and the Memory of Japan
Etsuko’s recollections of Nagasaki are tinged with nostalgia and ambiguity; a wistful fondness for her life in Japan clashes with painful post-war trauma. Cinematographer, Piotr Niemyjski, bathes the scenes in sunlight, generating a dreamlike distance to portray Etsuko’s aesthetic nostalgia.
As the viewer, we are able to feel much more than what we can observe. Through Etsuko’s melancholy, we can see she still has some fondness for Japan through her wistful expressions, and the bittersweet tone shown through actress Suzu Hirose’s subtle glances. However, we can also sense there is a lot that is yet to be uncovered and indeed painful for her to confess. Beneath this beauty lies post-war trauma and personal unhappiness as she struggles with her first marriage and grapples with memories of the bombing of the school in which she taught. This is shown through cinematographic contrasts — the Japanese past feels sunlit, airy, and open despite its tense undertones. Whereas the present in England feels gloomier and detached despite the promise of the Western dream. This aesthetic nostalgia beautifies pain, transforming trauma into something that feels distant, unreliable, and almost dreamlike…
Escaping the Past — Distance and Displacement
Etsuko’s relocation to England speaks to her need for physical escape and emotional avoidance. The act of remembering brings Japan flooding back, so Etsuko chooses a solitary, restrained life in England, a country which shares a similar perspective of ‘quiet endurance’.
Furthermore, both settings represent cultures of emotional repression and silence around trauma, following the horrors of World War II and its recovery period. This agreed mass cultural silence of the two nations is poignant, especially in regards to the relationships between all the characters. In post-war Japan, people rebuild without discussing the bombing or moral complicity — a “normalisation of moving on.” In England, the “stiff upper lip” mentality mirrors this same repression; Etsuko’s relationship with her daughter, Niki, reflects this muted emotional exchange.
Therefore, it's understandable that she chooses not to delve into her past. Etsuko herself internalises these silences. Her narrative omits, deflects, and distorts, particularly regarding the suicide of her oldest daughter, Keiko. This manifests in her strained relationship with her youngest daughter, Niki; both of them look to understand the perspective of the other.
The Cinematic and Symbolic Use of Imagery
Piotr Niemyjski’s brilliant cinematography highlights an eerie and dreamlike state of Etsuko’s nostalgia. He makes use of this displacement with time cuts and visual cues: in Japan, there is warmth and light, and the landscapes are vast and clear. This dreaminess is further evoked by a spring-like palette: yellows, pinks, soft reds. Whereas in England, the visuals are muted with autumnal tones, giving a “stuffy” and isolating environment. This is evident in Etsuko’s family home in England. The bungalow - seemingly peaceful because of the surrounding nature, and further adored by a real estate agent who comments on its reverence - suggests the opposite. Instead, it cocoons Etsuko, as she features alone or at a distance from others. The viewer can feel uneasy as we are reminded of Keiko’s room and the discomfort of her absence.
Through his visuals, he comments on how this distance doesn’t dispel the intrusion of memories as the vibrancy of the past seeps into the dullness of the present. The hints of their family’s Japanese cultural heritage are presented as reminders, as seen when they re-pot bonsai trees and cook together while recipes hang on the kitchen walls. This hints that escape from memory is impossible; nostalgia is a form of haunting.
Furthermore, the visual contrasts between the countries and eras (50s and 80s) embody different emotional states effectively: Japan represents nostalgia and raw emotion, whilst England champions suppression and control. This escape in the UK can also be shown through the confined domestic interiors, rainy atmosphere and muted tones as stated before; unlike the warm and expansive Japan.
It’s important to note that the sweet, chilling, pastel-coloured Japan also shows the instability of Etsuko’s memories, which is further perpetuated with the equally cold English palette. A visual representation of the emotional heaviness of Etsuko’s character. This cinematographic structure reveals nostalgia as a visual presence, not just a mental one.
The Past’s Influence — Can We Escape Nostalgia?
Etsuko represents the question “Is it possible to separate oneself from the past?”. I believe one can’t; our experiences do define us, however hard we may try to separate from them. Similarly, we can choose to leave behind that version to grow into something else, still paying homage to the experiences which have led us there.
Many of Etsuko’s stories can be explained as projections of her own guilt and trauma, which suggests that her memory might not be as factual as she believes it is. It is intriguing…how does a post-war survivor perceive the world and cope with the evolving world around them? The novel’s title itself, A Pale View of Hills, implies distance and fading — the past can never be seen clearly, only faintly, through nostalgia’s haze. The author, Ishiguro, suggests that repression is futile: the past persists in subtle ways, shaping identity, emotion, and relationships. Nostalgia becomes both a survival mechanism and a prison - Etsuko must remember to continue living, yet remembering also prevents healing.
A Pale View of Hills uses fragmented narrative, emotional restraint and cinematic imagery to explore nostalgia and both an aesthetic and psychological condition. In the end, nostalgia is a visual ghost, shaping our perception of the present as we grapple to understand its effect and its manipulation of our schemas of the world around us. The past lives within us, through memory, tone and emotion.
Edited by Lara Walsh, Co-Film & TV Editor
