Dreams for Sale concludes the end of a three year absence from filmmaking for Japanese director Miwa Nishikawa. A celebrated filmmaker within contemporary Japanese cinema, her 2009 nomination for a Naoki Literature award set her aside as an accomplished storyteller across narrative mediums. Dreams for Sale is a tale of marriage fraud, though Nishikawa readily admits that it is very much a fictionalised account of the subject. Married couple Kanya and Satoko are left devastated one night when their izakaya restaurant burns to the ground. Kanya’s continuous drunken stupor and rejection of his wife’s optimism leads to a drunken one-night stand, which leads to an unexpected cash windfall. Initially angry, Satoko sees in Kanya’s betrayal a means to finance their dream of a new restaurant: defrauding vulnerable women through false marriage proposals.

Perhaps best known for her performance of a vengeful school teacher in 2009’s Confessions, Japanese music star and actress Takako Matsu delivers a particularly memorable performance that is full of subtle nuance. One of the central protagonists, she is a joy to watch; humorous and warm with that beaming smile, she also plays the betrayed woman without excessive melodrama, instead exhibiting a quiet and almost humorous annoyance with her husband, as she quietly rebukes his later accusations. To attempt to describe her character is to do Matsu’s performance an injustice. Rather it is a performance that needs to be experienced, words in this case insufficient.

Dreams for Sale is one of those films which left me with me an odd feeling, an impression that I should have liked it more than I did. One of the problematic aspects of the film is that Nishikawa’s tale of marriage fraud is a drawn out affair, and whilst film is a medium in which this type of expansive story or world can be achieved effectively, I couldn’t help but feel that the story Nishikawa is trying to tell here may have been better suited to the written word. The film’s premise of a couple taking the dreams of vulnerable women and exploiting them to finance their new restaurant is a fine premise, and Nishikawa effectively weaves together the darker aspects of the story with comedy; even some black comedy. Between the film’s memorable scenes however, I couldn’t help but feel a little as though I were waiting for that next memorable moment. This is true of most films and is not exclusive to Dreams for Sale. Robert Rodriguez once said that you watch a film for certain moments. Whilst this is true, transition between such moments is crucial, and that is where Dreams for Sale struggles.

It remains an interesting and ambitious take on trust and sincerity, but more than it is an amusingly dark tale of what people will do to attain their dreams financially, or through sacrificing apart of themselves. The main protagonists’ journey from an affectionate and loyal couple, to resentful lovers, tied to one another through their exploitation of ‘dreams for sale’ is worth the watch despite the film’s inherent struggles. Nishikawa’s cinematography demands to be noticed, the way her camera lingers in moments upon her protagonists’ faces, and knowing they are watching the raging fire, we stare face to face, us into their world, they into ours, an elongated moment in which we experience storytelling through silent facial expression. This may be where Nishikawa excels, but in Dreams for Sale she is gifted one of the most memorable performances of the year by Matsu, that detracts from the film’s struggles.