We
often believe that everyone has the right to live their own life. That a
parent's past should not become a burden passed down to their children.
However, Murderer (2014) and Yurigokoro (2017) raise a quieter,
more unsettling question: to what extent does a parent's past—especially a dark
one—shape a child's life, even when the truth has been hidden for years?
In Murderer,
the story revolves around the consequences of past actions that are never truly
resolved. The traces remain, not only on the perpetrator but also on the family
living under their shadow. The film shows that a crime does not end with a
single event; it seeps into relationships, identity, and the way a person is
seen by the world—including the children who never chose to be part of it.
Yurigokoro
takes a more intimate approach. Through a mother's journal from the past, the
film reveals how long-buried secrets can shake a child's understanding of who
they are. It is not only about what a parent has done, but also about how that
knowledge changes the way a child sees love, morality, and their own origins.
Here, the past becomes a cracked mirror, reflecting questions about whether
personality, impulses, and darkness can be inherited.
Neither
film offers a simple answer. They do not claim that children are destined to
repeat their parents' sins. However, they are honest about one thing: the past
has a gravitational pull. It shapes the emotional environment, parenting
styles, moments of silence and openness, and relationship patterns that are
unconsciously passed down. Children do not grow up in a vacuum, but within a
story that began long before they were born.
Interestingly,
both Murderer and Yurigokoro highlight the role of secrets. When
the past is hidden, it does not disappear—it simply works in silence. Silence,
tension, and fear become the language that is passed from one generation to the
next. A child may not know the details, but they can still feel the atmosphere.
And that is often where the confusion about identity begins: an unexplained
fear or a desire to understand oneself through an incomplete truth.
However,
both films also leave room for choice. Knowing the past does not always mean
being bound by it. Awareness can become a turning point—a place where someone
chooses to understand without repeating, and to accept without justifying.
Here, freedom does not come from denying one's origins, but from facing them
honestly.
In
the end, Murderer and Yurigokoro invite us to see the
relationship between parents and children in a more complex way. The past may
shape us, but it does not have to define us completely. A child is not the
automatic continuation of a parent's sins. They are an individual living
between influence and choice. And perhaps the greatest act of courage is
acknowledging that shadow—and then choosing to walk in a different direction.
(Aluna
Uwie)
Has been published on Alunauwie.com
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