The 2026 Academy Awards, to some people’s surprise, had a few inspired choices in the below-the-line categories, especially in the hair and makeup category. One such pick was Lee Sang-il’s Kokuho: a sweeping tale of one man’s journey towards becoming a living national treasure, as the title translates to. In an art form dominated by tradition like kabuki, reaching the heights of a living national treasure is a hard feat without the power of connections and a good family name. Commanding the scale of a multi-decade narrative is a difficult feat, one that the craftspeople working on the film certainly rose to. But the film has an aura of disinterest in both its two main characters and how kabuki fits within the changing landscape of post-World War II Japan.
The film follows Kikuho Tachibana (Ryo Yoshizawa/Sōya Kurokawa) as his Kabuki career unofficially starts at his father’s New Year’s party. He’s introduced to Hanai Hanjiro II (Ken Watanabe), who declares him a natural “onnagata,” the tradition of men performing as women in kabuki. After his father passes, and the yakuza family dissolves, Kikuho joins Hanjiro’s family as an apprentice alongside Hanjiro’s son Shunsuke (Ryusei Yokohama/Keiatsu Koshiyama).
The two form a friendly rivalry, the talented outsider versus the prodigal son, as their careers quickly accelerate. As Kikuho tries to attain the status of “kokuho,” roughly translated as living national treasure, the patriarchal nature of Kabuki threatens to thwart his efforts at every turn. Simultaneously, his friendship with Shunsuke and Hanjiro must change as his career begins its tumultuous highs and lows.
The recent buzz around Kokuho obviously stems from its, frankly, unexpected nomination for the Academy Award for Best Hair and Make-Up. The teams, led by Kyoko Tokoyawa and Tadashi Nishimatsu, had a dual challenge: adapting the deceptively simple makeup and hairstyles of traditional Kabuki for film and subtly aging the main cast both in and out of the Kabuki makeup.
Obviously, the centerpieces of the film are the onnagata make-up done for Kikuho, Shunsuke, and their predecessor, Mangiku Onogawa (Min Tanaka). The goal of onnagata make-up is to create the illusion of femininity, much like modern drag make-up, while also maintaining the deceptively simple look associated with centuries of tradition. The elaborate wigs, tailored for each performance and sometimes designed to be worn in multiple styles, are equally stunning. That’s not to downplay the make-up and wigs done for the male performers playing male roles as well. Arguably, the combination of skills for restructuring hairlines makes their make-up and hair even more impressive, especially given the uniformity.
Considering so much of the film takes place on stage, capturing a very traditional form of performance, the cinematography must balance the integrity of watching the stage while simultaneously keeping the language of cinema. Sofian El Fani does a good job of maintaining a balance between preserving the integrity of watching Kabuki live and adapting to the cinematic viewing experience. Considering how much of the film is dedicated to the rigorous preparation for perfecting the nuance-heavy onnagata stage presence, El Fani makes the most of integrating close-ups and pans in a way that enhances the payoff of watching copious performance preparations. Of course, the actors, especially Yoshizawa and Yokohama, also give lovely performances befitting the theatrical prestige and tradition they’re participating in.
However, my compliments for the cinematography and make-up/hairstyling for Kokuho are truly the only compliments I can give. The film certainly does not earn its gargantuan 177-minute runtime with a script seemingly disinterested in giving any attention beyond Kikuho’s Kabuki career. I’m unsure whether this is a failure of the screenplay or the source material by Shuichi Yoshida.
There’s a palpable lack of interest in exploring both how Kabuki fits within the tumultuous socio-political landscape of Japan in the immediate post-World War II period. We’re strictly railroaded to watching Kikuho’s career and the series of both personal and professional choices that impact his trajectory towards becoming a living national treasure. The film feels far too indulgent, even down to random ramping in the editing that feels like it’s just artificially extending the runtime or falsely relishing in its own scale. Even still, Kokuho is quick to abandon any nuance or anything close to an outside factor impeding Kikuho’s career trajectory.
This is most egregious when handling the persistence of onnagatain modern Kabuki. The film addresses this with a quick explanation at the top and one five-minute scene of Kikuho getting hatecrimed at the lowest point of his career. There’s no interest in exploring the place of effeminate men, either on stage or off, and even less in exploring the patriarchal nature of Kabuki.
The three female characters mentioned, which I really haven’t had a need to mention until now, are so sidelined apart from when there needs to be a child mentioned, or Kikuho needs to be reminded that he is indeed an inferior member in the theatrical hierarchy. The railroaded focus makes the middle third of the film drag as Kikuho is just ferried between performances with an occasional tragedy thrown in to create a semblance of stakes.
If you’re looking to complete your watchlist in time for the 2026 Academy Awards, Kokuho is definitely a passable film experience. For those who have an interest in make-up and hair craft, it’s a worthwhile watch. Otherwise, the pacing of the film and its own disinterest in any semblance of exploring its own ideas make it dissatisfying. The “great gowns, beautiful gowns” approach is frankly less than compelling, but it does make its nomination well worth it.
Review Courtesy of Red Broadwell
Feature Image Courtesy of Toho