Love on Trial
Koji Fukada’s Love on Trial (Renai saiban) offers a sharp, unflinching examination of the brutal, dehumanising machinery at the heart of Japan’s idol industry. Anchored by a commanding performance from Kyoko Saito – herself a former idol – the film exposes the grotesque expectations imposed on young women tasked with maintaining an illusion of purity for their predominantly male fanbase.
The premise is stark and troubling: entertainers are contractually forbidden from engaging in romantic relationships, their personal freedoms curtailed in the name of protecting a fantasy. Fukada and co-writer Shintaro Mitani lay bare the sinister construct of this industry-sanctioned purity, where public performance and private life become indistinguishable. Early scenes depict the girls forced to simulate intimacy, placating obsessive fans in choreographed meet-and-greets that quickly lose their initial shock value. The relentless surveillance and emotional policing, while initially grotesque, soon feel depressingly routine – less an outrage than an accepted, if unconventional, industry norm.
As Mai, the group’s steady centre, Saito excels – whether dancing onstage or conveying pent-up frustration behind closed doors. By contrast, the legal proceedings that frame the second half fall disappointingly flat. Mai’s lawsuit over her relationship with street mime Kei (Yuki Kura) may be rooted in headline-grabbing reality, but on screen it plays out with all the excitement of a procedural checklist. The muted, sterile courtroom interiors only underline this lack of drama. Compared to the torrent of vitriol her bandmate Nanako endured in the court of public opinion after her own illicit romance was exposed, Mai’s formal legal battle feels oddly perfunctory.
Though the narrative includes a darker turn involving an obsessive fan’s violent reaction, Love on Trial consciously avoids psychological unravelling or surreal horror. Unlike Perfect Blue (1997), it opts for naturalism and restraint, even as Mai approaches her emotional breaking point. This measured approach grounds the film, though it may leave viewers expecting a deeper descent into paranoia or madness somewhat underwhelmed. Ultimately, Love on Trial is a well-researched exposé of an exploitative industry – but its real tension lies not in the courtroom, but in the battleground beyond it, where a culture obsessed with control punishes humanity as ruthlessly as it polices performance.
Christina Yang
Love on Trial does not have a release date yet.
Read more reviews from our Cannes Film Festival coverage here.
For further information about the event visit the Cannes Film Festival website here.
Watch the trailer for Love on Trial here:
Facebook
Twitter
Instagram
YouTube
RSS