When audiences at the 2025 Busan International Film Festival filed into the theater for the “Visions – Asia” showcase, few could have predicted just how much noise a quiet Japanese drama would make. Tiger, the new film by acclaimed director Kazuya Shiraishi, tells the story of a closeted gay masseuse in Tokyo who struggles to balance family expectations, personal secrecy, and a yearning for authentic connection. With its world premiere in Busan, the film has already sparked conversations well beyond cinema — about the evolving face of Japanese storytelling, the global rise of LGBTQ+ narratives, and the power of art to reflect lives often hidden from view.
This is not simply another festival debut. Tiger represents a convergence of cultural shifts: Japan’s cautious but growing acceptance of LGBTQ+ issues, Asia’s increasing role in shaping queer cinema, and the continuing relevance of film festivals as incubators for daring, socially resonant stories. What follows is an exploration of Tiger, its themes, its context, and why this film may be remembered as a landmark moment for Japanese cinema.
The Story of Tiger: Hidden Lives in the Heart of Tokyo
At its core, Tiger is a film about silence — the kind of silence that can consume a life when truth feels too dangerous to speak. The protagonist, Taiga, is a 35-year-old gay man who works as a masseuse in Tokyo. He lives with the constant strain of hiding his sexuality, crafting a double life where intimacy is compartmentalized and authenticity must be suppressed. His professional life is quiet and uneventful, but beneath the surface he carries an enormous weight.
The film’s turning point comes when Taiga’s father falls ill and his sister threatens to expose his sexuality to gain leverage in an inheritance dispute. Suddenly, the fragile balance of secrecy begins to collapse. Family, work, and personal identity collide in ways that force Taiga to make choices he has long avoided.
Shiraishi directs the story with restraint, allowing silences and glances to carry as much weight as dialogue. The intimacy of Tokyo’s backstreets and massage parlors forms a stark contrast with the emotional distance Taiga maintains from those around him. Rather than sensationalize its subject, the film presents a deeply human portrait of a man caught between the fear of rejection and the desire to be known.
Kazuya Shiraishi’s Bold Direction
Kazuya Shiraishi is no stranger to challenging narratives. Known for works that probe Japan’s social margins and darker undercurrents, Shiraishi has built a reputation as a director unafraid of discomfort. With Tiger, he shifts his gaze toward LGBTQ+ themes, but his signature style remains: deliberate pacing, nuanced character development, and an insistence on moral complexity.
What sets Shiraishi apart here is his sensitivity. Queer lives in Japan are often rendered through stereotypes or subplots in mainstream media. In contrast, Tiger places a closeted gay man at the center and treats his story with both empathy and realism. There are no caricatures, no forced optimism, no convenient resolutions. Instead, the film lingers on the gray spaces where real life happens: the quiet negotiations of identity, the compromises of secrecy, and the fragility of family bonds.
This directorial choice makes Tiger resonate not only as a work of art but as a cultural statement. Shiraishi refuses to turn away from discomfort, and in doing so, he invites audiences to confront the costs of silence in a society still wrestling with acceptance.
Busan International Film Festival: A Platform for Change
The Busan International Film Festival (BIFF) has long been a proving ground for Asian filmmakers pushing boundaries. Celebrating its 30th edition in 2025, the festival’s “Visions – Asia” section continues to spotlight bold and original voices. For Tiger to premiere here is both symbolic and strategic.
Busan has become a crossroads where East Asian cinema can engage with global audiences. The festival is known for championing films that might otherwise struggle to find international platforms, particularly those addressing sensitive or underrepresented issues. Tiger fits this ethos perfectly: a Japanese film about queer identity, told with raw honesty, presented to an audience primed for challenging art.
Festival screenings often determine a film’s trajectory, and early reactions suggest Tiger may have a strong afterlife beyond Busan. Critics have praised its emotional intimacy, while LGBTQ+ advocacy groups have hailed it as an important cultural milestone. The combination of artistic merit and social relevance makes it likely that Tiger will secure additional festival invitations and perhaps international distribution.
LGBTQ+ Representation in Japanese Cinema: A Slow Evolution
To understand why Tiger matters, one must look at the broader history of LGBTQ+ representation in Japan. Unlike some Western countries where queer cinema has carved out a recognizable genre, Japanese film has traditionally relegated LGBTQ+ characters to side roles, comedic relief, or metaphorical devices.
There have been notable exceptions. Films like Funuke Show Some Love, You Losers! and Close-Knit attempted to address queer themes directly, while directors like Ryosuke Hashiguchi (Like Grains of Sand) pioneered more empathetic portrayals. But these works remained relatively rare, and mainstream Japanese media has often lagged behind in confronting LGBTQ+ issues.
Social context matters here. While Japan is considered socially tolerant in many respects, it lacks legal protections such as same-sex marriage rights. Queer individuals frequently face family pressure to conform, and public figures rarely come out openly. Against this backdrop, a film like Tiger — which foregrounds the struggles of a closeted gay man without sensationalism — represents a significant cultural step.
By showing Taiga not as an outsider but as an ordinary man navigating family dynamics and personal longing, Tiger normalizes experiences that have long been hidden. It humanizes rather than exoticizes. And in doing so, it opens space for broader societal conversations.
The Symbolism of the Title: Why Tiger?
Titles in cinema often carry symbolic weight, and Tiger is no exception. The animal suggests strength, survival, and stealth — qualities that resonate with Taiga’s life. Much like a tiger in the wild, he moves cautiously, concealing his true self while navigating hostile terrain.
But the tiger is also a symbol of suppressed power. Within Taiga lies an unexpressed vitality, a longing for freedom that threatens to erupt if given the chance. The film hints at this duality: the quiet masseuse who contains within him a roar the world has never heard.
The metaphor also connects to cultural undercurrents in Japan, where tigers often symbolize courage and resilience. In this way, the title frames Taiga’s struggle not only as one of secrecy but as one of hidden strength.
Family, Inheritance, and Identity
One of the most compelling aspects of Tiger is its intersection of personal and familial conflict. The inheritance dispute between Taiga and his sister is not merely a plot device. It reflects the ways in which family structures can weaponize social stigma.
In Japan, where family reputation and filial duty remain culturally powerful, the threat of exposure carries enormous weight. Taiga’s sister leverages this vulnerability, highlighting how queer identity can be exploited in contexts of inheritance, marriage, or family honor.
By situating Taiga’s struggle within this framework, the film connects private identity to broader social dynamics. It shows how silence is not only personal but systemic, enforced by cultural and familial structures that punish deviation.
Cinematic Style: Silence as Storytelling
Much of Tiger’s power lies in its style. Shiraishi employs long takes, muted colors, and deliberate pacing to create an atmosphere of constraint. Dialogue is sparse, but every word carries weight. The camera often lingers on Taiga’s face, capturing microexpressions that reveal what he cannot say aloud.
This approach mirrors the protagonist’s life. Just as Taiga suppresses his voice, the film withholds dramatic flourishes. The result is a story told as much through absence as presence. The silences are not empty; they are charged with meaning, forcing the audience to sit with discomfort and tension.
The effect is haunting. Viewers leave not with the satisfaction of resolution but with the lingering awareness of how silence shapes lives.
Critical Reception and Early Reactions
Early reviews from Busan have been overwhelmingly positive. Critics describe Tiger as “raw,” “courageous,” and “deeply human.” LGBTQ+ advocacy groups have praised the film for its authenticity, noting that it avoids both melodrama and idealization.
Some commentators have even suggested that Tiger could mark a turning point for Japanese cinema, opening the door for more mainstream films to tackle queer themes directly. Whether it achieves commercial success remains to be seen, but its cultural impact is already significant.
Audiences, too, have responded with emotion. Reports from Busan describe quiet tears during screenings and long post-film discussions in festival cafés. For many viewers, especially those from conservative societies, Tiger resonates as both mirror and catalyst — reflecting hidden lives and challenging silence.
Broader Context: Queer Cinema in Asia
While Tiger stands out in Japan, it is part of a larger wave of queer cinema emerging across Asia. From South Korea’s Moonlit Winter to Taiwan’s Dear Ex and India’s Aligarh, filmmakers across the continent are pushing boundaries and amplifying marginalized voices.
What unites these films is their insistence on humanity. They refuse to reduce queer characters to stereotypes or symbols. Instead, they portray them as complex individuals navigating love, family, and society. Tiger belongs to this lineage, and its inclusion in Busan situates Japan within Asia’s broader queer cinema renaissance.
Why Tiger Matters Now
The timing of Tiger’s release is crucial. Globally, LGBTQ+ rights are at a crossroads. While some countries move toward greater acceptance, others push back with renewed hostility. In Japan, debates over same-sex marriage and workplace protections are intensifying, with public opinion increasingly supportive but legal frameworks lagging.
By premiering now, Tiger enters a cultural moment when visibility matters. Art alone cannot change laws, but it can shift narratives. It can humanize the abstract, give voice to the silenced, and create empathy where statistics cannot.
In this sense, Tiger is more than a film. It is part of a broader struggle for recognition, dignity, and change.
Conclusion: The Quiet Roar of Tiger
When history looks back at the 2025 Busan International Film Festival, Tiger may be remembered as one of its defining works. Not because it shattered box office records or dazzled with spectacle, but because it dared to tell a quiet story that mattered.
In centering a closeted gay man in Tokyo, Shiraishi has given audiences a character who embodies the struggles of many: the weight of secrecy, the complexity of family, the longing for authenticity. By presenting this with empathy and restraint, he has transformed silence into cinema.
For Japanese film, Tiger is a milestone. For LGBTQ+ representation, it is a victory. And for audiences everywhere, it is a reminder that the most powerful stories are often those whispered before they are finally allowed to roar.