REVIEW: ‘One Year To Live Buy A Man’ Explores Life’s Messy Complications

The best-laid plans are often thrown off when unexpected variables are thrown in. In One Year to Live, Buy a Man (Yomei Ichinen, Otoko wo Kau), the carefully curated life plan maintained by the film’s female protagonist, Yui, is thrown to the wayside once forced to confront a devastating diagnosis. But she even has a plan in place for that, one that gets challenged every step of the way once a new man enters the picture. In a carefully curated meditation on mortality and what we hold dear, One Year to Live, Buy a Man is a subtly melancholic undertaking with a great emotional reward.

Based on the novel of the same name, One Year to Live, Buy a Man opens by going through Yui Katakura’s (Ko Shibasaki) routine. Her focus is on saving as much money as possible prior to retirement, even going as far as to avoid dating if it means saving money. It is a lonely life, but a tightly controlled one, all her own. Everything changes, however, when she takes part in a free cancer screening that reveals a cancer diagnosis. Rather than pursue treatment, she opts out of it, deciding to die rather than push through the harsh realities of living.

As she is processing and taking in the realities of dying within a year, Yui runs into host Sena (Eiji Akaso) in the hospital waiting room. He approaches her for money to pay his father’s hospital bills, quickly deducing that someone who looks like her likely has money saved up. On impulse, fueled by the sudden freedom she feels over knowing her death is nigh, she offers to pay the bill in exchange for the financial equivalent of his services. This act binds them together in ways that will shock and challenge both of them for months to come.

Dying opens up the gateways to challenge and freedom for Yui in One Year to Live, Buy a Man.

One Year to Live, Buy a Man easily falls into the slice-of-life genre, focusing on Yui as she navigates the complex emotions and scenarios that arise upon receiving what amounts to a death sentence. What makes Yui so fascinating from a writing and acting perspective is that she is not inherently likable, and that’s a positive. Ko Shibasaki plays her as tight-lipped and sparse with her words, an aspect of Yui’s personality that punctuates her closed-off nature. She holds herself as tightly as she does her money, almost like a protective mechanism.

The stern, matronly archetype is often paired with the looser host archetype in these scenarios, with each one pushing and learning from one another throughout the course of their relationship. This is seen between Yui and Sena in One Year to Live, Buy a Man, where both start their relationship on a transactional basis before the barriers between them begin to break down. Where the film pushes beyond the boundariess of this particular scenario is in its grappling with mortality and how one transforms in the process.

Sena’s presence in Yui’s life slowly changes her, as does her perception of money. While money can easily provide a sense of security, that security disappears when Yui’s health fails. The more adventures she goes on with Sena, the more Yui opens up and learns to live life. Yet the transactional nature of their relationship is never wholly lost, thanks in part to Sena’s chosen occupation and his family, who take him for granted. 

The story reminds us to embrace the time we have. 

Eiji Akaso plays Sena with subtlety, taking a less excitable approach to the host that never distracts from Yui and, in fact, balances her. While the social taboo of hosts concerns the people in Yui’s life, it’s never used as a source of judgment between Yui and Sena. A job is a job, and Yui understands that. However, the film doesn’t shy away from how easily Yui is in a position of power over Sena, with their contract as the means by which he can eventually help his family, who rely on him for income and security.

And therein lies one of the more thought-provoking themes dissected in One Year to Live, Buy a Man. With money, one can gain security, but it must be done at a sacrifice. Is any of that worth it in the end, if you don’t allow yourself to live in the process? As one character states in the film, you can’t take money with you to the grave, so why not spend it. Both Sena and Yui are tethered down by the security money offers, but both are left isolated and alone in pursuit of it. Their coupling allows them the chance to finally break free if they are open.

While the romance may not be as overt for some viewers, One Year to Live, Buy a Man takes its time, letting its message breathe and settle in. Much like Yui grappling with her mortality, it’s a little messy wading through the highs and lows, but the clarity gained in the end is well earned. And much like similar stories in its genre, a necessary reminder that sometimes it is actually okay to live a little. Life is short. Do the thing.

One Year to Live, Buy a Man is now streaming exclusively on Netflix.