‘The Intertwining’ Review: Two Medical Students Uncover Buried Truths in Tense Psychological Drama

“The Intertwining” director Akira Yamamoto was mentored by Kiyoshi Kurosawa, and it shows. Yamamoto is one of many Japanese filmmakers to study under the legendary director of “Cure” and “Tokyo Sonata,” who was a professor at Tokyo University of the Arts from 2005 to 2023. And although he’s not Kurosawa’s most famous pupil — that would be “All of a Sudden”‘s Ryusuke Hamaguchi, whose style is also an influence here — he has clearly taken many lessons on composition and timing from his former teacher. To this end, Yamamoto’s latest feature takes a politically charged family drama and laces it with restrained, but palpable psychological tension, creating a film whose quietest moments are also its most uneasy ones. Yamamoto’s primary tactic for creating this tension is the long take. Shots in this film frequently linger just a few seconds longer than they’re “supposed” to, reflecting the pauses in dialogue scenes where characters choose their words before they speak. Many filmmakers who utilize this tactic like to punctuate these moments with bursts of sudden violence, but aside from the elderly woman collapsing on a city bus who serves as a catalyst for the film’s plot — filmed in a very Kurosawa-esque long shot, by the way — Yamamoto contains himself here, too. The struggle in “The Intertwining” is all psychological, as the two women who respond to the medical emergency — both medical students, as it turns out — begin to realize that they have a lot in common. Ji-hyun (Jiyoung) is a fifth-year Korean exchange student, although she’s frequently mistaken for Japanese — as Nakano (Karata Erika) notes with surprise when they formally introduce themselves afterwards. They exchange numbers and hang out a few times, eventually figuring out that not only are their parents both in the hospitality business, but they were born at the same clinic around the same time. Ji-hyun’s parents briefly lived in Tokyo before going back to their home country, discouraged by the discrimination against Koreans that’s still pervasive in Japan today. This becomes extremely important later on as Nakano, who’s never felt at home in her family, decides to test her DNA against those of her parents and brother after learning about DNA sequencing in class. Nakano is both shocked and relieved to discover that the parents she grew up with are not her biological mother and father, and her new friend Ji-hyun supports her as she tries to process these feelings. Then a nurse at the clinic gives Nakano an envelope containing the names of her real parents. As it turns out, it’s not a coincidence at all that Ji-hyun and Nakano’s parents both sought treatment at the same fertility clinic. Ji-hyun and Nakano were both the product of IVF, and their embryos were implanted in their respective mothers on the same day. Except the doctor made a mistake, meaning that Nakano is actually Korean, and Ji-hyun — who’s also faced prejudice for her ethnicity while living in Japan — is actually Japanese. The scene where the clinic’s current head tries to explain what went wrong more than 20 years ago contains another of the movie’s rare outbursts, as Nakano’s father angrily confronts the doctor for “putting a Korean embryo into [his] wife.” In his mind, this is the worst betrayal of them all, and the way he prioritizes his family’s honor over his daughter’s happiness is one of the reasons why Nakano feels no guilt about leaving him behind. Ji-hyun, on the other hand, loves her family very much. She does not want to become Japanese, and the political undertones of their respective identity crises are one of the film’s most crackling unspoken undercurrents. Ji-hyun pities Nakano, but maintains boundaries between them even after the two go to South Korea to visit Ji-hyun’s warm and supportive family at their picturesque restaurant by the sea. By this point, the bubble of unspoken words between these two women is straining with tension. But Yamamoto is too subtle, and too savvy, of a director to let it burst. Instead, we’re left with some challenging questions about identity, and what makes a person who they truly are. Although it’s the central conflict, the mix-up at the clinic is not the only outrageous coincidence in this movie, and “The Intertwining” could have been even stronger with a slightly tighter narrative focus. Still, it’s a testament to Yamamoto’s filmmaking that these feel less like plot contrivances and more like the invisible reverberations of fate. “The Intertwining” does require patience and active engagement, both of which are made possible by committed, but controlled performances from Jiyoung and Karata, who also starred in Hamaguchi’s “Asako I & II.” One could easily imagine the premise of this movie as the stuff of Sirkian melodrama. But Yamamoto asks his leads to internalize these big emotions rather than externalize them through his filmmaking, and the controlled intensity shown by all three key players is key to what makes “The Intertwining” work. Grade: B+ “The Intertwining” premiered at the 2026 Tokyo International Film Festival. It is currently seeking U.S. distribution.