Fantasy literature as a warning in socio-political commentary, Happy ending marks a firm first step toward feature films for Neo Sora, who last year made a moving documentary tribute to his late father, Ryuichi Sakamoto: The Work. The Japanese writer-director balances the film’s depth of feeling with understatement and gentle humor, working with an attractive young cast as graduating high school classmates who face — or refuse to face — a bleak future. Capturing that transitional moment when the seemingly solid bonds of adolescence suddenly seem uncertain, this is a melancholic drama laced with notes of anger and anxiety, but also resilience.

Sora begins with on-screen text about the traditional enforcers of crumbling systems growing tired in the near future, heralding a time of change. These changes are represented by youthful rebellion.

Focusing on five inseparable friends and one influential figure outside the group, the filmmaker actually observes their acts of individual and collective resistance in the shadow of a government leaning towards totalitarianism and a climate where the threat of natural disaster is constant.

Earthquake alerts on mobile phones have become a regular part of life, prompting the prime minister to announce an expansion of government emergency powers. This is especially evident as protest movements form and police repression turns violent.

But all this is a backdrop for a delicate portrait of late adolescence, suspended between pleasant distractions and mounting fears about what comes next. At its center are two lifelong friends whose contrasting reactions to the dark atmosphere around them, both at school and in the national political arena, reveal differences neither was previously aware of.

Closely related since childhood, Yuta (Hayao Kurihara) and Kou (Yukito Hidaki) are talented amateur DJs aspiring to a career behind the mixer. Their easy, uncomplicated bond extends to the group, which also includes Tomu (Arazi), Ming (Shina Peng), and Ata-chan (Yuta Hayashi), whose rebellious sense of style can be inferred from the flowing skirt she pairs with her uniform of white shirt and black blazer.

When the police shut down an illegal techno party, the group returns to school after hours, cleverly distracting the security with a meowing phone app and heading upstairs to the “Music Research Club” to pump out some beats and dance. Later, while Yuta and Kou are on the roof smoking a cigarette, the sight of a shiny new yellow sports car belonging to their strict principal (Shiro Sano) proves too much for them to resist. Their prank makes the entire school laugh the next morning, but it has repercussions.

The police are called, prompting an outburst from student activist Fumi (Kilala Inori), who claims the police are “bureaucrats with guns” who are there to protect the country’s wealth. Kou is the prime suspect, more because of his Korean heritage than anything else; the principal, who calls the car vandalism “terrorism,” threatens to withhold Kou’s college recommendation. But without evidence, disciplinary action takes a different turn.

The principal has installed a new, sophisticated security system with facial recognition cameras throughout the school, allowing him to identify and issue demerit points to students who are bullying. At first, it’s treated as a joke, and Ata-chan is applauded when he quickly earns ten points for making obscene gestures at the camera.

The graduating class discovers that their likable homeroom teacher has been replaced by a humorless, rule-abiding type, and the Music Research Club is declared a fire hazard and shut down, with all electronic equipment locked in storage.

A strong earthquake that additionally damages the car prompts the Prime Minister to enact an emergency decree, claiming that natural disasters increase crime rates. Fumi encourages Kou to join her in street protests. The domino effect of alarm and paranoia causes neighborhood watch groups to patrol the streets at night.

Kou grows frustrated with the apolitical Yuta’s immaturity, his “have fun until the world ends” attitude. Among other signs of the group’s unity being tested, the most poignant is Yuta’s initially hurt reaction when the biracial Tomu says he’ll go to college in America, where he has relatives.

Things get even more heated at school when a military instructor is brought in to teach self-defense, and in another example of casual racism, all non-Japanese citizens are excluded “for safety reasons.” Fumi leads the pushback, her actions producing results and sparking outrage from others—most amusingly in her Ata-chan graduation costume. But when Yuta speaks up, his courage comes at a price.

Sora achieves an expert tonal balance between the bittersweet, elegiac qualities of a high school graduation drama, with its sympathetic observation of the process of growing up, and the unstable microcosm of an educational institution that becomes like a prison, hinting at broader political implications in the outside world. The film never loses sight of the personal, involving us from the outset in the experiences of Yuta, Kou, and their friends, while also bringing a light but persistent touch to the larger concerns that affect us all.

DP Bill Kirstein, who also helmed the film Sora Opushas an elegant eye for composition, able to see poetry in the stark urban landscapes of the fictional Tokyo (Happy ending (It was filmed mostly in Kobe.) Composer Lia Ouyang Rusli’s music complements this visual grace while also capturing the characters’ youthful energy in the techno interludes. The young actors, almost all newcomers, are naturals in a confident film set in the future but fully plugged into the global political unrest of the present.