Plan 75 (2022)

Plan 75 is the rare science-fiction drama that doesn’t dazzle you with gadgets so much as with a chillingly plausible idea, presented with such calm, humane clarity that it sneaks up on your conscience. Chie Hayakawa directs with a restrained, compassionate gaze, letting quiet moments and everyday humiliations reveal how a society can “solve” a problem by sanding away its empathy, and Chieko Baishô gives a performance of aching dignity that you don’t so much watch as feel. The film’s tone is hushed, patient, and haunting rather than sensational, finding its power in moral unease and emotional intelligence instead of big speeches. It’s not for viewers looking for escapism or a fast-paced dystopian thriller, but if you want a thoughtful, deeply human movie that lingers long after the credits, this one is worth your time.

Plan 75 is clearly aiming for a calm, near-future cautionary tale about how a “reasonable” policy can quietly turn cruel, and it treats that idea with restraint rather than melodrama. The problem is that the same cool, austere approach can make the film feel emotionally distant, like it’s observing its characters more than truly letting you live with them, so the gut-punch you might expect from this premise often lands as a slow chill instead. If you want a fierce debate about assisted suicide or a more layered, deeply interrogated social critique, you may find the storytelling a bit underpowered and the nuance thinner than the concept deserves. But if you’re patient with minimalism, you’ll likely appreciate the controlled performances and the unsettling plausibility of its world, which lingers precisely because it refuses to shout.