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3\/5 stars<\/strong><\/p>\n It is perhaps unsurprising that he would be inspired by the \u201csheep in the box\u201d sequence in Antoine de Saint-Exup\u00e9ry\u2019s The Little Prince<\/em>, where the leading character declares the best painting of a lamb to be one that is hidden and unseen.<\/p>\n Ironically, in a film named after this scene, Koreeda chooses to spell out nearly every point he wants to make: his reflections on how parents mourn their dead children, his doubts about artificial intelligence, his view of nature as a solace rather than a threat and, of course, his exploration of blood relations as a mere superficial component of personal relationships.<\/p>\n Set in a small Japanese town in the \u201cnot-too-distant future\u201d, Sheep in the Box<\/em> revolves around modernist architect Otone (Haruka Ayase) and artisan woodworker Kensuke (Daigo Yamamoto), a couple whose serene demeanour conceals their grief over losing their son in mysterious circumstances two years prior.<\/p>\n<\/div>\nHirokazu Koreeda\u2019s best films demand audiences read between the lines to grasp what he is trying to convey. The Japanese director\u2019s fascination with surrogate families is hinted at succinctly in films such as Distance<\/em> (2001) and Shoplifters<\/em><\/span> (2018); his interest in exploring the malleability of truth drives The Third Murder<\/em><\/span> (2017) and Monster<\/em><\/span> (2023).<\/div>\nUnfortunately, the result is a sprawling vehicle weighed down by its explicit messaging and inconsistent characters \u2013 a thematic balancing act his compatriot Koji Fukada manages to pull off with more success in Nagi Notes<\/em><\/span>, one of three Japanese films in competition at this year\u2019s Cannes Film Festival<\/span>.<\/div>\n