All 10 Best Win Morisaki Movies Ranked (Best to Worst)

Kōji Fukada crafts an unforgiving, quietly devastating inspection of grief and marital fracture when an unimaginable domestic tragedy splinters a newly formed family. Anchored by Akiko Yano's titular song, the film resists melodrama, opting instead for chilly spatial geometries and agonizing silences that expose the fragile facade of everyday happiness. In the role of Jirō, Morisaki delivers what remains the most psychologically layered performance of his career. Rather than playing the grieving husband with overt theatricality, he leans into passive emotional evasion, cowardice, and unresolved filial guilt. It is an exquisitely restrained supporting turn that proved his dramatic gravity on the international arthouse stage at Venice, demonstrating how comfortable he is subverting traditional leading-man charisma.

Adapted from Mochiru Hoshisato's manga, this four-hour odyssey directed by Kōji Fukada charts the slow-motion psychological unraveling of an emotionally detached corporate drone pulled into the chaotic orbit of an enigmatic femme fatale. Fukada turns suburban apathy into a relentless moral quagmire, shooting cramped apartments and late-night convenience stores with existential unease. Win Morisaki carries the sprawling narrative as Tsuji, pulling off a high-wire balancing act between mild-mannered compliance and reckless, self-destructive chivalry. His ability to make an indecisive protagonist both infuriating and endlessly fascinating anchors the entire picture. Recognized in Cannes' 2020 official selection, the project solidified him as a formidable auteur collaborator who could command deep character studies across colossal running times.

Kei Ishikawa approaches the high-stakes arena of classical piano competition not as a sports movie, but as a sensory exploration of artistic obsession and interior genius. Through sweeping camerawork and meticulous sound design that physicalizes classical scores, the film captures the visceral, isolating toll of musical perfectionism. Morisaki commands the screen as Masaru Carlos Levi Anatole, a prodigy carrying both aristocratic polish and the suffocating burden of elite expectations. He infuses the character with genuine warmth and magnetic physical discipline during the taxing concert sequences, entirely avoiding arrogant virtuoso tropes. The nuanced, joyful resonance he brought to the keys earned him the Japan Academy Film Prize for Newcomer of the Year, officially validating his transition from teen idol to serious dramatic contender.

Ayumu Watanabe’s cosmic anime adaptation is an audiovisual triumph, wedding Daisuke Igarashi’s intricate, textured manga illustrations to fluid kinetic animation and Joe Hisaishi’s symphonic score. The plot—a metaphysical plunge into oceanic mystery guided by two enigmatic youths raised by dugongs—prioritizes transcendental mood and ecological philosophy over standard three-act structure. Lending his vocal talents to Anglade, the renegade genius oceanographer investigating the global marine anomaly, Morisaki delivers an effortless air of intellectual mystique and philosophical detachment. His soothing, rhythmic voice work supplies vital narrative clarity amid the third act’s dazzling cosmic abstraction. It stands as an important milestone in his expanding repertoire, proving his vocal precision holds significant weight within premier auteur animation.

Steven Spielberg's dazzling virtual reality spectacle operates at breakneck speed, celebrating pop-culture nostalgia through an astonishing canvas of cutting-edge digital wizardry. Behind the dazzling race sequences and kinetic pop iconography lies an astute fable about human isolation inside corporate metaverses. While Tye Sheridan anchors the central quest, Morisaki snatches the movie’s most euphoric climax as Daito. Shifting seamlessly between measured samurai stoicism and energetic camaraderie, his transformation into the live-action RX-78-2 Gundam remains one of the modern blockbuster era’s most infectious cheers. Spielberg handpicked him through a rigorous international search, and that casting bet paid off: the role launched Morisaki onto the worldwide stage and immortalized him in global geek canon forever.

Mitsuo Fukuda’s theatrical sequel closes a two-decade wait with blistering mecha dogfights, melodramatic intrigue, and maximalist space warfare. The narrative deftly balances vintage Cosmic Era romantic tensions with hyper-choreographed combat sequences that push modern digital animation to its absolute limits. Morisaki enters the franchise canon by voicing Griffin Arbalest, an elite knight of the Black Knight Squad whose lethal arrogance and militaristic precision provide the story with a sharp antagonistic thrust. His voice acting carries cold, clipped confidence that amplifies the lethal stakes for Kira Yamato and his allies. Coming years after his live-action Gundam sequence in Hollywood, this vocal turn brought his relationship with the legendary franchise full circle for anime purists.

Directed by Norihisa Hiranuma and Daisuke Ninomiya, this blistering collaboration between the High & Low universe and Hiroshi Takahashi’s Worst manga franchise delivers wall-to-wall brawl cinema. The narrative is unapologetically stripped-down: multi-school alliances clash in sprawling warehouse skirmishes filmed with dynamic long takes and bruising physical stunts. Morisaki steps into the fray as Motoaki Sakata, trading his customary polished charm for raw swagger and street-level menace. He attacks the combat choreography with astonishing kinetic flair, proving that his boy-band musicality translates directly into sharp physical timing and pugilistic precision. While the movie prioritizes bruising sensory overload over deep psychological realism, it showcases an athletic, hard-edged versatility rarely seen in his prestigious arthouse resume.

Scripted by comedian Bakarhythm, this delightfully unhinged martial-arts comedy transposes the hyper-violent conventions of delinquent manga into the pristine corridors of corporate office culture. Between filing invoices and afternoon tea breaks, rival cliques of female office workers wage bloody turf wars in spiked suits and punk pompadours. Morisaki appears as an unsuspecting corporate colleague whose mundane, oblivious normalcy acts as a vital comedic counterweight to the blood-soaked absurdity around him. His sharp deadpan reactions and pitch-perfect comic timing ground the surreal mayhem, highlighting his comfort with heightened genre satire. It remains a breezy, irreverent detour in his portfolio, demonstrating that he can generate big laughs simply by playing the ultimate straight man.

Masatoshi Yamaguchi’s cynical plunge into Tokyo’s predatory underground economy examines the desperation of ordinary citizens trapped under crushing financial ruin. Anchored by Takayuki Yamada’s icy, menacing titular antihero, the production pulls no punches regarding the grim spirals of debt and exploitation. Morisaki appears in an early career role as a young associate skirting the perimeter of this moral rot. While the narrative gives him limited narrative runway, his raw screen presence captures the brittle anxiety of youth caught in systems beyond their control. The grim, unvarnished tone of the piece offered him valuable dramatic schooling, previewing the naturalistic instincts and emotional vulnerability that would flourish in his later, more substantial collaborations.

Serving as the grand finale to the immensely popular television franchise, this schoolhouse drama relies entirely on comfortingly predictable beats: inspirational speeches, leather jackets, and the unwavering optimism of Yukie Nakama's teacher Yankumi. While undeniably formulaic and melodramatically dated by contemporary standards, the film offered an essential showcase for young male talent emerging in Japan’s entertainment pipeline. Morisaki features among the sprawling student roster as Kenji Igarashi, blending youthful defiance with wide-eyed innocence. Although his character is constrained by the script's broad brushstrokes and heavy ensemble crowding, his early magnetism cuts through the noise. It stands as a nostalgic historical timestamp, marking his initial steps before graduating toward ambitious cinematic storytelling.