Why “Kokuho” matters to The Oscars

“Kokuho” is a three-hour epic directed by Lee Sang-il, starring rising talents Ryo Yoshizawa and Ryusei Yokohama alongside internationally acclaimed Ken Watanabe. The film tells the story of a yakuza boy adopted into a prestigious Kabuki family who ascends to become a “National Treasure” (Kokuho).

On the surface, the premise seems straightforward — a boy leaping from a world of violence into one of tradition and beauty. Yet the film has struck a profound chord with audiences. Since opening in Japan in June 2025, it has drawn over 13.7 million viewers and generated more than ¥19.3 billion (approximately \$130 million USD) at the box office, continuing its theatrical run with recent re-releases in 4K IMAX and Dolby Cinema formats.

What explains its remarkable resonance with Japanese audiences? And more importantly, why should it matter to the Oscars?

A Story of Beauty, Brutality, and Love

The film opens quietly in the snowy winter of Nagasaki, where young Kikuo witnesses his father’s murder at the hands of a rival yakuza clan. This moment of violence sets in motion an unlikely transformation. Kikuo is adopted by Hanjiro Hanai, a renowned Kabuki actor, and his son Shunsuke. Within the Hanai family, Kikuo discovers the mesmerizing beauty of Kabuki — particularly the art of onnagata, male actors who perform female roles with transcendent grace.

Between Kikuo and Shunsuke, a complex relationship blooms: brotherly love intertwined with professional rivalry. Through this relationship, “Kokuho” explores profound questions about succession, identity, and whether artistic beauty can transcend — or must destroy — tradition.

The Oscar Shortlist and What It Represents

In December 2025, “Kokuho” was shortlisted for two Academy Award categories: International Feature Film and Makeup and Hairstyling. Film enthusiasts predict the film has a strong chance of securing nominations in one or both categories.

For Japanese audiences, a nomination would represent validation of Kabuki — a centuries-old art form — finding new life and global recognition through cinema. But “Kokuho’s” significance extends far beyond national pride. The film represents a crucial test for the Academy itself.

Breaking the Subtitle Barrier — Again

“Once you overcome the one-inch tall barrier of subtitles, you will be introduced to so many more amazing films.” These words, spoken by Bong Joon-ho at the 92nd Academy Awards, marked a watershed moment. “Parasite” didn’t just win Best Picture — it shattered assumptions about what American audiences would embrace. Its triumph proved that sharp social commentary, masterful filmmaking, and the unique cadence of the Korean language could resonate universally with audiences willing to read subtitles.

“Kokuho” now stands at a similar threshold. Like “Parasite,” it offers what English-language cinema cannot: an artistic tradition steeped in centuries of cultural specificity, visual storytelling that doesn’t require translation, and themes — ambition, family, identity, the price of excellence — that transcend borders.

But where “Parasite” dissected class division with surgical precision, “Kokuho” asks a different question: Can beauty inherited become beauty earned? Can an outsider become the ultimate insider? In wrestling with these questions through the highly stylized world of Kabuki, the film creates a cinematic language that is simultaneously deeply Japanese and profoundly universal.

Why This Matters Now

The Academy’s recognition of “Kokuho” would signal more than appreciation for Japanese culture. It would demonstrate that the “Parasite” moment was not an anomaly but the beginning of a new era — one where the Oscars consistently celebrate cinema’s ability to transport audiences across linguistic and cultural boundaries.

“Kokuho” challenges viewers to sit with subtitles for three hours, to immerse themselves in an art form many have never encountered, and to find themselves moved by a story told in a visual and narrative grammar unlike anything in Western cinema. If the Academy embraces this challenge, it will prove that Bong Joon-ho’s words were not just a beautiful sentiment but a prophecy.

The one-inch barrier of subtitles remains. But films like “Kokuho” remind us why it’s worth crossing — again and again.