School bullying has been a topic of great concern for many years in Japan where reports of youth suicides linked to ijime periodically splash news headlines. Nakanishi Kenji's debut film The Blue Bird explores this sensitive issue through the experiences of a school recovering from a major bullying incident, wrapping its message-driven narrative in teen drama angst, eccentric teacher heroics, and school politics.

Based on Shigematsu Kiyoshi's novel, The Blue Bird is set at a typical junior high school with typical kids and the typical bullying problems that led to an atypical tragedy last semester. Oft-teased class clown Noguchi attempted to hang himself, leaving behind a note of despair that named classmates who had contributed to his suffering. The film opens in the aftermath, the start of a new school year, and the hope that the incident had been put behind for good. Noguchi has moved away, and it's time for the school and the students to move on - but stuttering Mr. Murauchi (Abe Hiroshi) thinks otherwise. As the substitute homeroom teacher of the affected class, Murauchi brings Noguchi's desk back to the classroom and pointedly greets the absent student every morning. His actions unsettle the students and the administration, causing unrest among the class and forcing some to face their role in an incident they would much rather forget. The Blue Bird focuses particularly on one student, Shinichi (Kongo Hanata), a smart and handsome teen - a good kid by any other measure - struggling with the guilt and shame of knowing he had almost contributed to the death of a classmate.

The type of bullying depicted in The Blue Bird is not physical but psychological, mean-spirited teasing and peer pressure seemingly laughed off as all in good fun. With no one speaking up to stop the hurtful situation, the victimizers become bolder, and the bullying escalates to a breakdown point for Noguchi. But at what point did joking become teasing, and teasing become torment? When did a bunch of normal kids turn into mean bullies?

The Blue Bird's greatest strength is that it subtly comes around to different sides and people in the incident, and voices the doubts of those who aren't convinced their actions qualify as bullying, or aren't even sure what constitutes as bullying. The film doesn't offer answers, but in its depiction of a too familiar school bullying scenario, the story casts some light on the roles and responsibilities of not just the overt victimizers, but also the eggers, the bystanders, the teachers, the parents, and the victim himself in creating and perpetuating a bullying situation. The Blue Bird also drives a stake in the mentality of seeking closure and disassociation, or offering token absolution through good-on-paper initiatives.

It helps, of course, that the film's do-good lessons are delivered by Abe Hiroshi, who takes a potentially cliched and caricaturish role and makes it compelling. Abe underacts his underwritten role with measured stoicism and sincerity. His peculiar motivational teacher with inner ghosts is a bit inscrutable, but he manages to run the whole gamut of amusing, awkward, stodgy, righteous, off-putting, and oddly inspiring between stutters. Though Mr. Murauchi isn't the most realistic character, his students are fairly realistic, and it's the classroom of mouthy, angsty, and overall normal teens that drive home the feeling that this bullying story and near tragedy could happen at any school. As a student struggling with guilt, teen star Hongo Kanata pretty much writes his acting on his face, but he is well suited for these brooding student roles (and he provides a good reason for teenage girls to watch the movie).

The Blue Bird's opaque storytelling and brooding air make the film perhaps not as engaging as it aspires to be, but it's more than good enough to warrant a watch. The themes and discussions put on screen are well meaning and well thought out, and the film stays admirably restrained throughout. If you had to show a movie about school bullying to a classroom of teens and teachers, The Blue Bird wouldn't be a bad choice. Plus, we could all use some inspiring from Abe Hiroshi.