Kazuo Ishiguro’s 1982 debut novel “A Pale View of Hills” is an elegant, slippery examination of lives caught between identities both national and existential: Its tale-within-a-tale of two Japanese women living eerily overlapping lives in post-war Nagasaki, as related to the mixed-race daughter of one of them 30 years later, is rife with deliberate, subtly uncanny inconsistencies that speak of immigrant trauma and disassociation. Such lithe literary conceits turn to heavier twists in Kei Ishikawa‘s ambitious but ungainly adaptation, which mostly follows the letter of Ishiguro’s work, but misses its haunting, haunted spirit.
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