Review: Hirokazu Kore-eda weaves another found family fable in bittersweet ‘Broker’

That families can come in all shapes, sizes and configurations may be one of the most vital lessons to be spread and learned, especially these days. It’s a theme that renowned Japanese filmmaker Hirokazu Kore-eda has long explored in gentle yet masterful ways in such acclaimed films as “Like Father, Like Son,” “Our Little Sister,” “After the Storm” and 2018’s Oscar-nominated and Palme d’Or-winning “Shoplifters.”

That last film, which involved a makeshift “family” of petty thieves stealing to get by, is nominally echoed in “Broker,” the writer-director’s latest work (and his first to be shot in South Korea), an affecting, bittersweet, fable-adjacent look at, let’s call it what it is: human trafficking.

But for the movie’s so-called brokers, Sang-hyeon (Song Kang-ho, the dad in “Parasite”) and Dong-soo (Gang Dong-won), their business stealing infants from the Busan Family Church’s “baby box” (a wall depository for abandoned newborns) and selling them for adoption is not just about the money. Far from it.

Sure, Sang-hyeon, who runs a hand laundry, and cohort Dong-soo, who works at said church, could use the dough; times are tight and, on the front burner, Sang-hyeon is in hock to the local mob.

But the two also want to be sure to find good, immediate homes for these kids and help prospective parents elude the time-delaying red tape of the country’s complex legal-adoption system. The men have personal reasons as well for their more high-minded approach to this particular criminal ruse: Sang-hyeon is divorced and wants to see families together, while Dong-soo grew up in an orphanage and spots himself in every forgotten child. (He knows firsthand that when an infant-dumping mother says she’ll be back, she rarely, if ever, is.)

Lee Ji-eun, from left, Gang Dong-won and Song Kang-ho in the movie “Broker.”

(Neon)

The operation has apparently gone fairly swimmingly for Sang-hyeon and inside man Dong-soo, who knows how to erase evidence of their baby-box “withdrawals” from the church’s security camera footage. That all changes, though, when runaway 15-year-old sex worker So-young (K-pop star Lee Ji-eun, a.k.a. IU) drops off her unwanted infant at the church, only to quickly rethink her actions. But not before Sang-hyeon and Dong-soo have already swiped the child.

In more cinematic than credible fashion (but just go with it), this leads the initially angry So-young to join the guys on their mission to find an acceptable set of parents for the baby — and, of course, share in the spoils. The film then shifts into road movie territory, complete with beater vehicle, improving attitudes, bonding moments and a surprise stowaway passenger, a sweet and lively orphan boy named Hae-jin (Im Seung-soo). Did someone say “found family”?

Meanwhile, all of this is being observed by a pair of detectives, Soo-jin (Bae Doona) and Lee (Lee Joo-young), who’ve been working to bust open the underground enterprise. They just need to catch Sang-hyeon and Dong-soo in the act of an actual sale. And like the suspects, Soo-jin has her own personal stake in these children’s fates.

Bae Doona in the movie “Broker.”

(Neon)

There’s certainly enough potential mayhem, desperation and danger here (including the gangsters on Sang-hyeon’s tail) for “Broker” to have become a dark, propulsive action-drama, in another filmmaker’s hands. But Kore-eda focuses on — and mines — the grace notes, better angels and soulfulness of his characters in such lovely and relatable ways that we’re grateful for his humanistic, more empathetic priorities. To his extra credit, he manages it all without things turning overly sentimental.

That’s not to say this slightly overlong film is without its bits of tension, narrative twists and deft reveals, not to mention injections of social commentary and moral ambiguity.

There’s a lot at work here, even if it’s presented with a generous, accessible touch.

And if the film’s somewhat elliptical conclusion feels more hopeful than real life might have it, by then we’re so sufficiently invested in our ensemble (due in no small part to the cast’s uniformly fine performances) that it’s a stirring way to go out.

Sometimes, you really can pick your family.