‘Haru’: Love and loneliness in the internet era
The idea of loneliness is often associated with modern dating, especially when it comes to the discourse surrounding extremely popular dating apps like Tinder. It’s no secret that social media has almost irreversibly altered how we interact with other human beings, especially because many of our social interactions have become increasingly virtual. This subject has been endlessly exploited by contemporary rom-coms, but what was it like in the 1990s, at a time when society’s relationship with the internet was still in its nascent stages?
When we talk about internet romance and the ’90s, one film immediately pops into everyone’s mind – You’ve Got Mail. The incredibly popular collaboration between Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan marked a huge cultural shift in our perception of digital relationships, encouraging many film fans to try and look for love online. However, You’ve Got Mail had a lesser-known but far superior predecessor called Haru, which has tragically been forgotten now.
Directed by Yoshimitsu Morita, this 1996 gem revolves around two individuals in Japan who connect on an internet forum for cinephiles. For those who are unfamiliar with the forum culture that was at the core of ’90s internet culture, its brand of anonymity will almost seem foreign. However, that’s exactly what encouraged Hoshi – a young woman who floats from one job to the next – to form a meaningful bond with Haru – a businessman in Tokyo who fears that he has reached a dead-end in his life.
The unique structure of Haru is what makes it work so well, even after all these years. Morita constructs a carefully crafted narrative that oscillates between the bustling spaces of urban life to the intimate silence of exchanging emails at night. Most of us have been bombarded by cloying depictions of such exchanges in countless mainstream productions, but the conversations between Haru and Hoshi are never sentimental. As they slowly uncover endearing facts about each other while navigating the labyrinths of modernity, every single person in the audience will undoubtedly find themselves thinking about that one person.
Despite the fact that Haru is supposed to be an exploration of the evolution of human interaction in the digital age, it’s not about that at all. Instead, the film focuses on the spaces between each email. In a world where we have become accustomed to instant gratification, emoji bombs, endless hyperlinks and rapid replies, these conversational spaces have become worryingly infrequent. That’s also why the nostalgia evoked by Haru is so special, transporting us back to a version of the internet that is no longer recognisable.
I will never shy away from admitting that I have a soft spot when it comes to the subgenre of urban isolation and internet connections, especially films such as Haru and Sidewalls. Even though Haru has its fair share of dramatic complications and the inevitable union of the two lost souls, there’s one particular scene that will forever remain embedded in my head. It’s the one where Haru passes through Hoshi’s town during a train journey, and they decide to film whatever they can see in that split second as the train hurtles by.
They go back home and repeatedly rewind the rough footage they have captured, only to fantasise about each other’s rough outlines shakily crystallised on tape. That’s where the film should have ended because that scene is the perfect representation of the connections we forge online, fleeting and primarily fuelled by our own projections.
