I took care to maintain balance so that viewers wouldn’t lose their way, but when you watch the film, you get the sense you’re stumbling into a vast maze, and I personally love that kind of sensation.

Also, in order to address fundamental questions, it was necessary to make the entry point as accessible and smooth as possible, which was another key factor. After all, when you’re faced with a vast maze with no end in sight, no one’s going to put their hand up and step forward to go in first.

What motivated you to bring depictions of social realities that we don’t often get to see in Japan into the film: a single mother raising children, remarrying, the pressure of work ethics and society’s expectations on the individual?

What you see depicted in this film is the true shape of Japan that we’re dealing with today. Just like anywhere else in the world, Japanese people get divorced, and there’s deep-seated ethnic discrimination. The plight of Zainichi Koreans (Japan-born Koreans) is one good example, and most Japanese films until now have either shied away from it, or focused on it exclusively.

There’s been a tendency to avoid addressing social issues, but for my generation, I get the feeling that’s changing somewhat. I wanted to make a film set in the real world that’s beset by such complex problems, concentrating primarily on universal personal issues in an incisive way.

Family is at the core of the film. What does family mean to you, and what does it mean for your film?

Love within families is by no means transient. Even if we were to make a discovery about a family member’s past, and learn of a side to them that would have been unimaginable before, we are able to accept that newfound aspect, and renew our love for that person. I believe that love keeps evolving in such a way, making it increasingly resilient. That in itself is the driving force that binds families together.

However, that love can sometimes be suffocating. When you get up in the morning and hop on a train to work, you might suddenly feel an urge to take a different train to somewhere you’ve never been before, and I think we’ve all experienced that impulse in one way or another.

I get the feeling that, especially these days, a tenuous balance exists between families and individuals that’s just barely functioning. When you’re with your family, and when you’re drinking at a bar, you might exhibit completely different sides of yourself, but they’re both equally you. Societies which promote a belief in a one-dimensional concept of love and universal personal identity make life almost unbearable for individuals.

You studied cinema both in Japan and at the famous Polish National Film School in Lodz. How does this translate into your filmmaking, and what inspires you?

My cinematic language is half Japanese and half Polish, but it’s not something I deliberately utilize. Japanese and Polish cinema share a similar avant-garde approach and have cultivated unique cinematic cultures that set them apart from neighboring countries, to name just a couple of the many things they have in common.

I view my ability to take the best aspects of both cultures and apply them when required to different themes and genres as one of my greatest strengths.

I continue to be inspired greatly by such filmmakers as Denis Villeneuve, whose genre-spanning works retain a strong authorial voice, and Krzysztof Kieslowski, with his reoccurring themes of coincidence and destiny. In terms of authors, I’ve been an avid reader of Paul Auster’s writings, which frequently deal with identity, and they were a source of inspiration for this film.

I set out to make this film in the same vein as the many superb socially conscious mysteries from the golden age of Japanese cinema, so I revisited several prime examples including Akira Kurosawa’s “High and Low” and Tomu Uchida’s “A Fugitive from the Past.”

But I suppose my greatest inspiration is the awareness that cinematic culture is universal, and that quality films will be well received anywhere in the world. I don’t consciously make films in a specific European or Japanese style; I just try to stay faithful to the inspiration that each story demands.