‘Route 29’: Misfits come together in touching road movie

Japanese road movies are many, but ones with the feeling of wide open spaces like their American counterparts are few for obvious geographical reasons: Driving from point A to B on most highways here takes less than a day. And these routes go through far more tunnels than deserts.

A case in point is the titular road of Yusuke Morii’s picaresque, borderline precious second feature “Route 29.” According to Google Maps, the travel time for the whole highway, which runs through the hills between Himeji and Tottori, is about two hours.

That fact is acknowledged in Morii’s script, which is inspired by the poetry of Taichi Nakao, but instead of hitting the accelerator, as did the heroines of “Thelma and Louise,” his two female protagonists spend more time on their feet than in a car. Call it a “walk movie.”

Also, instead of road movie masters like Monte Hellman (“Two-Lane Blacktop”) or Wim Wenders (“Paris, Texas”), Morii channels Wes Anderson, from the wry comic rigidity of his compositions — characters standing like blank-faced dolls — to his occasional dips into symbolic surrealism, such as CGI fish swimming above beach sand. These stylistics could also be seen in his feature debut, “Amiko” (2022), but he goes much further Wes in “Route 29.”

This lays him open to the charge of imitation, but the film is similar to “Amiko” in being about loners and misfits, beginning with Noriko (Haruka Ayase), a socially awkward janitor who cleans the floors of a Tottori mental hospital. When a depressed patient (Mikako Ichikawa) asks her a favor — she wants to see her daughter before she dies — Noriko swings into action, swiping a van used by her janitorial crew and driving down to Himeji, where the daughter, Haru (Kana Osawa), is living.

From her boyish hairstyle, clothes and mannerisms to her abode in the woods — a multicolored teepee she shares with a crotchety homeless woman — Haru more than matches Noriko in nonconformity. But for reasons of her own (which she never fully explains), she is willing to zip off in a van with this shy, bespectacled stranger, whom she quickly dubs “Tombo” (dragonfly).

Par for the road movie course, plot matters less than character. After their van gets stolen by a lady wearing Jackie-Kennedy-era fashions and leading two large dogs, Haru and Noriko encounter a series of other oddball types, from a survivalist father and son who distrust humanity (Kengo Kora’s creepily robotic father more than his normal-enough son) to a mute elderly man who trails after them. Then there is Noriko’s prim schoolteacher sister who scolds her for her “coldness” but gives them shelter.

All these encounters, as well as a crisis best left unexplained, lead to the expected bonding between Haru and Noriko, but without the usual melodramatics.

Both Ayase, a veteran star in commercial films, and Osawa, who won kudos for her performance as a spiky loner girl in “Amiko,” disappear into their roles, more so with Ayase, who is typically cast as chipper, purehearted types. The purity is still there, but convincingly darkened by Noriko’s social isolation. Meanwhile, Osawa plays Haru with focus and intensity — and no child-actor cuteness or precociousness whatsoever.

So though I knew exactly where “Route 29” was going, I enjoyed the ride, or rather hike, faux Wes touches and all.