Chiko Kobayashi, a little girl whose adult voice narrates this coming of age tale, lives in North Korea with her upper middle-class Japanese family and their Korean maid, Ohana. She gets a taste of the growing political tension between Japan and Korea by overhearing worried adults voice their fears and witnessing racial prejudice against Koreans at school. But World War II doesn't really hit home until her grandparents visit. Having to deal with wartime rationing, they bring Chiko a plain brown backpack instead of the red one for which she had hoped. Hardship follows as the military drafts Chiko's father, her toddler sister, Miko, dies of typhoid, and Ohana gets sent away for a minor infraction. Mr. Kobayashi returns safely, but the war's end ushers in a shift of power that puts the Japanese North Koreans at the mercy of Russian communists and (perhaps justifiably) the vengeful Koreans. The Kobayashi family embarks on a dangerous trek to South Korea, from where they can return to their native Japan. But as with most journey stories, the family wins real victories on the road, while caring for each other, strangers and even people they would have once called enemies.

Though the story embarks on a well-trodden path, "Rail of the Star" unfolds with such grace and simplicity that it feels as fresh to us as it is to Chiko. The film, which is based on the autobiography of Chiko Kobayashi, chooses the right moments to linger on minutia (tossing a ball, hiking up a hill) and doesn't indulge in historical details that wouldn't seem important to a six-year-old. It succeeds in conveying cultural collisions and the complex power struggles of a multi-faceted war without betraying its young narrator.

Director Toshio Hirata's coupling of innocence and vivacious curiosity in Chiko's youthful demeanor gives the drama its particular voice. She's sweet and resilient but not overly sentimental. Even at their most subtle, her powerful, un-modulated screams and laughs humanize her animated visage. Her particularities prevent her from being just a kid or just a narrator. With a bobbed haircut and two splashes of red across her cheeks, Chiko appears playful and believably selfish at times, yet increasingly attentive to her kind parents.

While Americans may be interested to see a WWII film void of pro-US flag-waving, "Rail of the Star" is not a story from the "other" side. Like most modern war stories, the prevailing message purports that war and the fallacies of cultural supremacy damage everyone severely, particularly accidental bystanders like Miko and Chiko.

The children are the stars of the film both narratively and artistically. Character designer Yoshenori Kanemori draws Miko and Chiko with more idiosyncratic detail than the adults in the story. Light, nursery-mobile-style music peppers the occasionally stark scenes, giving viewers the feeling of visiting an antique playroom that has been cleared of its contents, but remains thick with mood and memory. Resonant with this tone, Hirata uses the image of incessantly falling snow in myriad ways. Sometimes it dances, sometimes it freezes and sometimes it whispers of things to come.

But despite its restrained flourishes, the movie sometimes loses the battle to portray a tumultuous era without resorting to melodrama. It doesn't trust its intrinsic nostalgia enough to avoid scenes like a flashback to baby Miko's bubbly giggle, 20 minutes after she giggled in real time.

Another big bid for an emotionally charged moment-the film's title motif-also provides one of its biggest holes. Early on, Chiko's dad points out the North Star, explaining that for eons travelers have used it as a beacon. Chiko recalls this when the family and other refugees are lost in the woods on their way to South Korea and reminds her grateful father. Despite the loving exchange, it's more than a little strange that Mr. Kobayashi would completely forget such a basic survival skill.

But "Rail of the Star" is more about how than what in its depiction of cultural collisions in the background of one ultimately happy childhood. Not aiming for supernova status, the quiet, contemplative movie glimmers and sparkles.