At first glance, I Want to Eat Your Pancreas is an odd title for a film, and it might give the wrong impression to those unfamiliar with Japanese culture. Yet, beneath the quirky title lies a profoundly moving meditation on life, death, and the relationships that leave a lasting impact on our hearts. Based on Yoru Sumino’s novel of the same name, the film follows a reserved, emotionally distant high school boy who discovers the diary of his terminally ill classmate, Sakura. As she faces the reality that she is dying of pancreatic disease, Sakura pushes against the protagonist’s efforts to live a life of seclusion, pulling him into a friendship that will transform them both.
Sakura radiates joy despite knowing her days are numbered. She refuses to let her illness define her, instead choosing to live in the present and cherish every moment. Her perspective is a stark contrast to the protagonist’s, a withdrawn bookworm who keeps the world at an arm’s length. As their friendship deepens, the boy—who never cared much for human connection—begins to understand what it means to truly live.
Grief and Its Impact on Mental Health
Grief is an ever-present undercurrent in I Want to Eat Your Pancreas. From the opening scene, the film makes it clear that Sakura will die before the end of the movie. But instead of focusing on the immediate tragedy of her illness, the story asks a deeper question: How do we live?
The protagonist undergoes an emotional transformation that mirrors the stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and eventually, acceptance. But what’s unique here is that he begins grieving before Sakura is gone. He resists his emotions, afraid of the pain that love inevitably brings.
This is an emotion I understand quite well. The fear of losing the person puts you in this paralyzed state of being. Where you love the person, and yet, they will die. So, to protect yourself, you try to isolate and build a wall around yourself. I thought that if I kept them in my life but didn’t let them in too much, their death wouldn’t hurt me as much, right? Right..? But when they pass, you are filled with regret for all the time wasted trying to keep that person away while you desperately tried to protect your heart.
This is especially relevant in the context of mental health and recovery. Many people living with substance use or trauma have built their emotional walls, distancing themselves from love and vulnerability as a way to avoid pain. Sobriety often forces people to confront the emotions we often spent years trying not to face because feeling those feelings full-on is terrifying. I Want to Eat Your Pancreas offers a lesson in surrender—allowing oneself to feel deeply, even when it hurts. Because even feeling and holding onto that pain can provide you with growth and healing.
Dying to Find Life: A Metaphor for Sobriety
Sakura’s journey is a poignant metaphor for the rebirth that often comes with recovery. She knows she is dying, yet she refuses to exist merely—she wants to experience everything, from friendship to adventure to heartbreak. Her illness, though tragic, becomes a catalyst for transformation.
For those in recovery, this theme resonates deeply. Addiction can feel like a slow death, a numbing of existence. But choosing sobriety is choosing to live. It’s about rediscovering joy in the everyday, just as Sakura does.
The protagonist’s transformation reflects the path many take in recovery. He begins the film detached from the world, unwilling to engage. But through his relationship with Sakura, he learns that life is not meant to be observed from the sidelines—it is meant to be lived, fully and unapologetically.
Resilience in the Face of Illness and Loss
Sakura’s greatest gift is not her strength in facing death but her ability to live without fear. She doesn’t waste time dwelling on what she can’t change and the life she cannot live. Instead, she finds meaning in small moments—eating sweets, watching fireworks, having deep conversations.
This perspective is essential for anyone facing adversity, whether it’s illness, loss, or the challenges of addiction. I Want to Eat Your Pancreas teaches us that life is fleeting, but it is also incredibly precious. The past cannot be changed, and the future is uncertain, but the present is ours to shape.
Final Thoughts: A Film That Stays With You
Much like Your Name or A Silent Voice, I Want to Eat Your Pancreas is an emotional powerhouse that lingers long after the credits roll. Its animation, music, and voice performances bring an extra layer of beauty to an already compelling story.
But beyond its technical merits, what makes this film unforgettable is its message:
- Life is meant to be lived, not just survived.
- Grief and love are intertwined, and both are necessary for growth.
- Sobriety and recovery are not just about avoiding death—they are about embracing life.
I Want to Eat Your Pancreas is a rare film that reminds us why we fight for connection, endure heartbreak, and keep moving forward, no matter how painful the journey. It’s a story for anyone who has ever felt lost, struggled to open up, or chosen to live even in the face of darkness.
It will break your heart (trust me, I cried three or four times during this movie), but it will also remind you why your heart beats in the first place. I give the film 5/5 Sobees.
Movie Night with The Sober Curator Sobees Score: 5 out of 5
I Want to Eat Your Pancreas – Trailer
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