KVIFF 2026: Incinerator
This adaptation of a short story by cult Japanese author Kaori Ekuni, aka the female Murakami, is a strange and intoxicating study of a peculiar ten-year-old girl as she takes her first clumsy steps on the road to adolescence
Kozue, the ten-year-old girl at the heart of Incinerator, is what you would call a queer fish. She’s not unconventional in the way that kids are often portrayed in movies. As played by a talented young actor who’s simply listed in the credits as Karin, Kozue is not precocious or quirky or awkward, but genuinely peculiar in the fashion children can be in the real world. Writer-director Shuntaro Uchida lets us spend lots of time in Kozue’s strange world, observing her eccentric habits. These include lying still on the floor for hours, throwing her plastic dinosaurs off the balcony and dipping savoury egg noodles into sugary Coca-Cola. Her favourite activity, however, is the ritualistic burning of randomly stolen objects in the incinerator at the back of her school.
Incinerator is based on a short story by Kaori Ekuni, who’s often dubbed the female Murakami in Japan, and that moniker appears apt based on this beguiling study of burgeoning adolescent desire. Uchida's film does an incredible job of capturing this lonely child’s feelings of boredom and isolation, as well as the deep sense of confusion she feels at the beginning of her journey towards adulthood without yet knowing the direction of travel.
That journey begins when Kozue claps eyes on Jinta, played by Taiki Shinozuka, who’s better known in Japan as a member of the J-pop group timelesz. He’s a university student who’s visiting Kozue's school as part of a shadow puppet theatre troupe, and when he gives a demonstration to Kozue's class, she can’t take her eyes off him. We can see the attraction, but our spacey protagonist seems to have no idea what’s driving her interest in this older boy. Over the course of one languid, sweltering summer, she attempts, in her own peculiar way, to express her newfound feelings.
Uchida creates a dreamy, balmy mood. Kozue encounters Jinta several more times over the summer, and each meeting is more intense than the last. And the infatuation doesn’t necessarily only go one way. Both actors give opaque performances, particularly the handsome and brooding Shinozuka, whose character seems happy to hold Kozue’s extended eye contact and go along with her odd requests despite their large age gap. He surely recognises that this young misfit has a crush on him, but does nothing to dissuade her; in fact, he seems to encourage her troubling interest in him, making every scene they share increasingly uncomfortable.
The loose narrative also makes space for Kozue’s parents, who are oblivious to their daughter’s strange obsessions and imminent coming of age. The film at times brings to mind Catherine Breillat’s troubling studies of adolescent sexuality, and the sensual and tactile camerawork by Shin Yonekura recalls Jane Campion’s work. Fans of other Japanese tales of adolescent sexuality, from Oshima’s Cruel Story of Youth to Shinji Somai’s Typhoon Club, will also find lots to like in Incinerator. But there’s something beguilingly singular to Uchida’s approach. Kozue’s burgeoning feelings are mysterious to her, and we’re also kept in the dark. This isn’t the film for people who want characters’ behaviours and emotions clearly roadmarked, but if the idea of getting lost in the confusing sounds and textures of a character appeals, then Incinerator’s incisive depiction of a seismic coming-of-age shouldn’t be missed.
Incinerator had its world premiere in Karlovy Vary International Film Festival's Proxima competition