‘Silver Express’ review: An asexual Japanese woman searches for connection in sensitive, unapologetic debut | Reviews

Dir/scr: Miki Tanaka. Japan. 2026. 97mins

A sensitive drama about a youthful woman wrestling with her sexual identity purely because the world demands she defines it, Silver Express is a mature and unapologetic portrait of asexuality and aromanticism that never tips into fetishisation. A powerful lead performance by relative newcomer Yui Okamoto as someone on a part of the sexuality spectrum that’s rarely talked about, Tanaka’s examination of intimacy, boundaries and our unwillingness to accept them from each other is as thoughtful as it is empathetic.

Transcends the rejection of physical intimacy to touch on life in a world built for heteronormativity

Tanaka made a significant impression on the global stage with her 2024 Cinéfondation Award-winning tiny film Gingerboy, about a pair of close male friends, and with the following year’s Blue Amber, about a youthful man who has never experienced romantic love. Silver Express, which premieres in Busan competition and next travels to Tokyo before a Japanese release in November, should find its way across the international festival circuit, with arthouse distribution in Asia-Pacific in particular a powerful possibility.

The story begins with a youthful couple on what appears to be a date. Like the good university students they are, Chieri (Okamoto) and Saito (Tatsuya Yamawaki) discuss the film they just saw over a beverage, agreeing that it was fine. Chieri’s main problem with the ending, however, was its irrational need for the leads to kiss.

A few days later, she’s out with some girlfriends, most of whom are squealing about boys. Chieri is frozen out of the conversation, entirely uninterested in any of it. As usual, she feels like the odd man out, and like the third wheel whenever she hangs out with her best friend and roommate Yuki (Riho Nakamura) and Yuki’s boyfriend Keita (Rio Takahashi). Chief comes to the realization that she’s asexual. She feels no conventional sense of desire for another person – though she’s not made of stone, and values close friends.

As the years pass, elegantly indicated by little details like hair cuts and up-to-date work places, Chieri endures her loneliness until she meets Shoya (Hayato Kurihara, Happyend and Tanaka’s Blue Amber), a music buff with a similar sexuality. She’s excited to hear someone else explain what she’s feeling and they strike up a friendship. All goes well until one glaring difference floats to the surface: she’s asexual while he’s aromantic.

Presenting initially as a well-made if modest drama about contemporary relationships in Japan, Silver Express stealthily morphs into something more substantial. Tanaka’s examination of asexuality transcends the rejection of physical intimacy to touch on life in a world built for heteronormativity; a world that demands everyone enter into long-term partnership – even if it’s one that can be dismissed or devalued. Tanaka quietly questions the social rigours attached to one-on-one hetero interactions in Japan, pointing out the timeless irony that allows Yuki’s visiting male colleagues to make offensive jokes about Chieri’s virginity – and ending it for her – while Yuki and another woman laugh and play down the threat.

There are times when Okamoto struggles to find a balance between ‘accepting her sexuality’ and ‘emotionally stilted’, but on balance she turns in a confident, nuanced performance that makes Chieri feel real, and not an archetype. To Tanaka’s credit she avoids the trappings of over-explanation, and never saddles Chieri with a long shadowy night of the soul in which she questions why she’s so ‘broken’ or how she can be ‘normal.’

Cinematographer Kohei Tatsutomi visualises Chieri’s growth through a combination of long shots that isolate her within the space, and suffocating close-ups when her boundaries are crossed. But once she makes peace with who she is, the issue becomes entirely about everyone around her – as demonstrated by Saito and Shoya – refusing to simply do the same.