Alhough the debut feature film from Baku Kinoshita, The Last Blossom, is strikingly different from his series Odd Taxi, it's clear the man loves to show the gradual cracks in the shell of a taciturn man. In this case, it's the stoic yakuza Minoru Akutsu, first shown in prison at the end of his life. Despite the large scar across the side of his face and his blocky features, he's depicted as a rather gentle and thoughtful guy. And, of all things to capitalize on this vulnerability, is a talking touch-me-not balsam flower.

The crudely potted plant – the titular last blossom – is Akutsu's only company in his jail cell, contained in an old food can. It speaks in a shrill and nasally tone, mocking Akutsu for his past mistakes, primarily around his complex relationship with Nana and her child Kensuke. Back in the 80s, while living off of “protection money and peddling,” Akutsu took the two into his house, a modest but cozy place in the hills outside the city. It's plain to see almost immediately that the single mother and son are like family to Akutsu, but despite how much affection he does show them, classic yakuza stoicism and propriety constantly keeps him at arm's length. His later financial success only increases that distance.

In the present day, he almost immediately admits to the balsam that he never quite worked up the courage to admit to Nana that he loves her, and he never directly addressed Kensuke as his son – and so every trip back into the past is tinged with rather intense melancholy. Much of this sadness is punctuated by funny little barbs from the obnoxious flower; it almost acts like a visualization of Akutsu's inner voice berating him for each of the regrets he recalls.

The plant stands out from the rest of the film's more naturalistic approach - not just because it talks, but also because of how it bounces around like the enchanted decorations from the Disney version of Beauty and the Beast. On paper that might sound like a rather frustrating contradiction to the rest of the film's subdued tone, but it works. If anything it'd probably be rather difficult to stomach the film without those little bits of gallows humor.

Regardless, The Last Blossom, is a compellingly understated and introspective piece. Kinoshita's artwork underlines that feeling – his stylized character designs are reserved and economical, his storyboarding of the film emphasizes stillness. Like the touch-me-not flower which constantly berates Akutsu in the present, it feels like The Last Blossom is itself sensitive to touch. The musical score is made with a light hand - mostly stripped back to woodwind instruments which keep out of the way. Screenwriter Kazuya Konomoto frames a fairly classical crime story from within a bubble of domesticity, making the eventual intrusion of yakuza politics all the more alarming. Kinoshita and the artists complement this through the production design, which plays up a nostalgic yearning in the scenes set in the past. That comes through in its use of color, and even just how the editing of the film calls attention to little throwaway details, like the baseball game playing on the television, little moments like humming Ben E. King's “Stand By Me.”

That these memories are drawn to feel so sacred to Akutsu, without overstating it, sets up the inevitable gut punches later to be all the more devastating. Even his talents feel tragic, his hobby of sketching places and people, and creating detailed maps of the area, all feel like glimpses of alternative paths he could have traveled. But he picked this one, and Kinoshita's film finds great pathos in the acceptance of that, and the possibility that it wasn't a wasted life.