It feels safe to say that capitalism had a solid run, but needs to step down. At this point, there’s nothing in this world that doesn’t feel commodified to the point that ethical consumption, let alone ethical existence, is an impossibility. Rather than being able to just live, one must always be hustling in order to create some kind of livable wage — no time for art, passion, or relaxation. The rich get richer, the poor get drained more, and satisfaction starts to look like the pain of others rather than actual balance or equity. This is a small part of filmmaker Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s (Cure; Wife of a Spy) latest crime thriller, Cloud (Cloud クラウド), as it centers a simple reseller who discovers that their method of living comes with consequences. Coming to home video via The Criterion Collection’s Criterion Premieres sublabel, Cloud is accompanied by a brief essay from critic Sean Gilman and a single Criterion-produced interview with Kurosawa to expound on the viewing experience.
L-R: Kotone Furukawa as Akiko and Masaki Suda as Ryosuke Yoshii in CLOUD. Photo courtesy of The Criterion Collection.
After factory worker Ryosuke Yoshii (Masaki Suda) clears a massive listing of inventory as a reseller, he decides to quit his job and become a reseller full time. At first, the idea to move outside Tokyo with his girlfriend, Akiko (Kotone Furukawa), to a remote house with space to operate out of seems like a good idea until a run of seemingly unrelated events (vandalism, distrustful delivery people, a questionable assistant) begins to shake his confidence. But his confidence isn’t the only thing on shaky ground as Ryosuke begins to realize that his seemingly innocent choices have far-reaching cataclysmic effects that threaten his lively-hood and his life.
The following home release review is based on a Blu-ray retail copy of Cloud provided by Criterion Premieres via The Criterion Collection.
With Cloud having screened in the U.S. on the 2024 festival circuit and a theatrical release from Janus Films in 2025, we’re going to presume you’re here to learn about the home release aspects. The Criterion Premieres edition disc is housed in a standard clear plastic case (similar to other Criterion basic titles) which features the theatrical poster image on the front cover and all the title and edition information on the back cover. This is not a reversible liner, though due to the clear plastic, the back of the liner is a steady grey-blue. Inside is a folded sheet that contains an image montage on the outside and Gilman’s essay on the inside.
Gilman’s essay is brief, certainly shorter than most included Criterion essays with the focus on identifying Kurosawa’s tendency to recreate or borrow from past works. For those less familiar with Kurosawa’s films or who hadn’t given some of the larger titles much thought, Gilman offers an interesting place to begin a deeper exploration of Kurosawa’s catalogue. If you’d like a deeper exploration of both Cloud and Kurosawa’s larger approach to cinema, head straight to the lone, 15-minute featurette “Meet the Filmmakers: Kiyoshi Kurosawa.” Here, he discusses, among many things, the tonal shifts in Cloud, the shared concepts across his films, why he leans toward longer shots, and the feeling of making a film in the days before success was determined by audience and critical reaction. With a mix of footage from various projects and a talking head interview with Kurosawa, home viewers really get a sense of Kurosawa’s perspective and the joy he takes from filmmaking. As someone whose first Kurosawa experience is Cloud, listening to the way he speaks about the inspiration for the film (his own experience with a friend reseller and Straw Dogs (1971)) does, in turn, inspire me to explore more of his filmography.
A scene from CLOUD. Photo courtesy of The Criterion Collection.
As a home release, the on-disc presentation is the major factor for most purchasers. I’m delighted to report that both are fantastic. Screened on a 63” 4K Sony TV through a Panasonic 4K UHD Blu-ray, Cloud upconverted wonderfully with great color balance regardless of day or night sequences. This is particularly important in the climax of the film with the extended warehouse sequence in which lightning is far more naturalistic, enabling the characters to all take advantage of shadows to find an aggressive advantage. Surprisingly, the sound is critical here, as well, considering that much of the film up until the main tonal shift toward horror-thriller from interpersonal drama is primarily characters talking or moving silently through a space. The best example of use of sound on the home edition is the sequence in which Ryosuke receives a nighttime visitor before moving out of Tokyo and we hear the footsteps rise up the steps, move around Ryosuke’s apartment, and then walk back down — the whole time the camera is focused on Ryosuke’s face, Suda conveying Ryosuke’s confused terror at the sudden power outage mixed with the question of why this person would be arriving there at night. The tight close-up with the sound of footsteps really hammers in the disquiet, one of few teases that a terrible escalation is on the horizon for Ryosuke.
In terms of the film itself, one of the things that Kurosawa comments on in the featurette that is both obvious and prevalent is the notion that we, generally speaking and in the absence of obvious threats, just live our lives through an insular view. That with our lives being not constructed through screenwriting, we tend to be pretty myopic and so we don’t think about what the people near us are thinking or feeling when we’re out in the world. Now, this is partially what sets up Ryosuke for the trouble he’s in, being the subject of several peoples wrath, both earned and unearned, as he goes about his life, not seeking to harm anyone, but not necessarily thinking through all of his words and deeds. One moment of this is on the bus ride with Ryosuke and Akiko as cinematographer Yasuyuki Sasaki (Asako I & II) moves the camera position just slightly so that we, the audience, presume it’s a perspective shot of someone observing Ryosuke, only to reveal a faceless figure lurking behind him who gets off the bus at the next immediate stop. Is that a harbinger of trouble to come? Is that just a person getting off the bus, unaware of Ryosuke’s own existence? We don’t know for sure and there’s disquiet in the unknowing. The first half of the film, before trouble comes for Ryosuke, is like this with characters moving through space, their words as important as their deeds; thus, in the second, the violence that comes carries even more weight. Brilliantly, Kurosawa’s script lays the groundwork for Ryosuke-as-villain whether the audience agrees with it or not, setting up moments in which others take his oft-unemotional delivery for hubris or bragging, his focus on addressing the irregular ocean waves of success becoming a criminal act within a romantic relationship, or his business approach to reselling items that mean nothing to him but a great deal to others being worthy of death. In this way, Kurosawa makes a grand claim regarding how living a life powered by capitalism, one in which all of us are tethered, results in the ruination of all. You love a popular thing? Let’s commodify it and make sure it only gets to the people that can afford it. All those limited pressing special editions that are already high-priced that then get snagged by resellers offering them for higher costs? What do we make of them? However, is the reseller the problem or the system that enables them to profit from reselling instead of dissuading it? Even when Ryosuke is challenged by law enforcement to ensure he, Ryosuke, is selling legal products and not frauds, the panic he feels is that he may get caught. Later, when hell is falling upon him, his concern is primarily for his merchandise and not his life. Whether one thinks he deserves being targeted or not, one can clearly identify how Ryosuke’s priorities are the most turned around of all. Beyond the thought of his own safety there is only the sale and whether or not he can earn back his investment, not whether Akiko is ok, not whether the people he sells to are satisfied, not any concern for anything beyond the sale. It’s a wild thing that, upon the credits rolling, one can be shaken, one can feel Ryosuke’s trapped in a hell of his own making, but one doesn’t necessarily feel sympathy.
Masaki Suda as Ryosuke Yoshii in CLOUD. Photo courtesy of The Criterion Collection.
Cloud is a film worth the wait. While it would be great to have an edition that feels truly “Criterion” with additional supplemental materials, there’s a quality to Cloud that feels of the moment and timeless. Stories about capitalism are nothing new (Giants and Toys) and the resurgence of class-related tales (from Parasite to Mickey 17, amusingly both from Bong Joon Ho) certainly conveys a sense that storytellers are exhausted by the cycle of hustle and grind that’s spread across the globe, which is why the approach from Kurosawa feels like a film that could’ve been made before the internet era even as it’s distinctly and specifically tied to online living to the point of dissociating about netizens-as-people instead of potential coin purses. Cloud has a pointed edge that cuts those unprepared for the cognitive reorientation Kurosawa thinks we need.
Cloud Special Features:
- Meet the Filmmakers: Kiyoshi Kurosawa, a Criterion Channel original interview (15:46)
- Trailer
- Notes by critic Sean Gilman
Available on Blu-ray and DVD February 17th, 2026.
For more information, head to the official The Criterion Collection Cloud webpage.
Final Score: 4.5 out of 5.
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Categories: Films To Watch, Home Release, Home Video, Recommendation, Reviews
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