Month: October 2010

Categories
anti-war drama, melodrama post-war

The Value of Lives Through Twenty-Four Eyes of Innocent Children

Kinoshita Keisuke’s Twenty-four Eyes (Nijyū yon no hitomi, 1954) is one of the most famous Japanese post-war classics alongside of Seven Samurai (Shichinin no samurai), directed by Kurosawa Akira. It was released in 1954 and won a Golden Glove Award in the foreign film category. This film was based on the novel “Twenty-four Eyes” written by Tsuboi Sakae and later remade into colour film in 1987 and then into a famous TV series in 2005. In this movie, Kinoshita inserts historical perspectives by depicting twenty years of devastating Japanese history, beginning in 1928 and continuing through post WWII. Kinoshita portrays this film as an anti- war drama, focusing on the actions and the interactions between the main characters, Ōishi Hisako and twelve school pupils (the twenty-four eyes), during turbulent years in Japan. The movie is portrayed alongside beautiful unchanged scenery of the Setonai Ocean while many nostalgic melodies are repeated over and over throughout the film. These nostalgic melodies with their changing styles and tempos help accentuate Kinoshita’s theme of pacifism.

The story primarily focuses on the interactions between teacher Ōishi Hisako (Takamie Hideko) and her twelve pupils and the community, as well as the struggles they face during two turbulent decades in Japan. The story begins with the arrival of a new teacher at a typical village school in a rural sea island called Shodoshima. The female teacher (Onago Sensei) first appears on the scene by riding a brand-new bike with western clothes on. At this time bikes were thought to be the high-class vehicles for men, so the modern look of this female teacher shocks the peasants in the remote community. Soon after her arrival, Mrs. Ōishi becomes the centre of gossip by villagers and arouses peasants’ antipathy due to her modern look and her unorthodox style of teaching. After Mrs. Ōishi becomes a teacher of the twelve first graders, she gets severely injured by her pupils’ prank, which eventually leads her to quit her village school. After Mrs. Ōishi had been gone for a long time, the twelve children decide to meet her since they regret what they have done and start to long for Mrs. Ōishi. It is at this point the community understands the true value of Mrs. Ōishi and see the children’s love toward her, which leads to reconciliation and acceptance of her into the community. Five years after this incident and the quitting of the village school, Mrs. Ōishi again gains a chance to teach, now adolescent pupils. However, around this time censorship was tightened and patristic militaristic ethos were being spread, so she is labelled a communist and decides to quite teaching. Again, time passes; Mrs. Ōishi and twelve children grow older and get intertwined in a devastating period, going through various hardships surrounded by economic depression, poverty and war. By the end of the movie, the children grow up to have their own kids and realize the happiness of peace as well as the sadness of loved ones who died in war and poverty.

Through the strongly held attitude and actions of Mrs. Ōishi and the dialogue held between Mrs. Ōishi and her pupils, Kinoshita enables the audience to grasp the theme, which emphasizes pacifism. Kinoshita inserts pro-peace and anti-war views by showing Mrs. Ōishi’s response toward the “Red Incident”. Despite the fact Mr. Kataoka, one of the teachers at Mrs. Ōishi’s school, gets arrested for writing an anti-war “Red” essay, Mrs. Ōishi still holds firm to her anti-war ideology. Regardless of the risk of getting arrested, she reads aloud Mr. Kataoka’s “Red” essay in class, and teaches children the importance of being alive. She goes as far as leaving her job as a teacher when the militaristic government restricts teachers to only teach patriarchal pro-war materials. Also, the simple dialogues and conversations between Mrs. Ōishi and her pupils help accentuate the stupidity of war. As the hue of anti war gets stronger, Mrs. Ōishi’s pupils become inspired to become soldiers and fight for the sake of the Empire of Japan. Mrs. Ōishi feels a deep sorrow upon hearing her students say being a soldier is their future dream. Instead of praising and being proud of their sacrifice for the nation and its people, she tells them that it is foolish to die for the nonsense of war. She also says she prefers to see them alive than to see them becoming a nation’s dead “hero”. In addition to Mrs. Ōishi’s pacifistic actions and attitudes, her joy at the termination of war directly brings the message of anti-war with the importance of peace. After hearing the emperor proclaiming the end of the war on the radio, she expresses joy by telling people that it is great not to see families and children suffer and die in war anymore while having a bittersweet feeling toward those who died. This happiness is in contrast to the sorrow of Japan’s loss in the war. This contradiction of joy and sorrow dramatises the idea of pacifism.

Kinoshita’s distinct choices and uses of music play into the sorrow of death, thus underlining the theme. Kinoshita employs various folktale songs and frequently changes the choice of songs and tempo depending on the emotions and perspective carried in the film. One of the conspicuous examples is the melody used during social changes. Since Shodoshima is a tiny remote island in Japan, the town itself did not receive much damage during the war as it is indicated by the unchanged beautiful scenery of the ocean and mountains. As well, the lives of peasants in Shodoshima remain unchanged during the Manchurian invasion except for the song choice played in the background. Here, Kinoshita inserts a sadder and slower song in comparison to other classics used earlier in the film, illustrating the grief and sadness directed toward the people who died in battle.

Kinoshita did an excellent job telling the horror of war and conveying the message of peace by depicting innocent children dying from war alongside melancholic music played in the film.

I think this film gives a misleading impression that Japan is a victim, not a perpetrator of war. By sentimentally depicting naïve and innocent children, who are passively forced to be involved in wars while omitting detailed information about the pupil’s willingness to fight for the war, Kinoshita fails to insert Japan’s factual position as a perpetrator in the war. As a result, the audience may get the mistaken impression that Japan was a victim of war. With basic knowledge about the background of the Pacific War, Twenty-four Eyes is enjoyable and educational for those who are interested in Japanese life during turbulent years as well as those who enjoy classical cinema.

Categories
drama, melodrama experimental thriller

Dunes of Darkness

Teshigahara Hiroshi’s Woman in the Dunes (Suna no Onna- 1964) is a surreal drama that uses the conventional captivity narrative to speak to contemporary social issues. The film could best be described as a contemporary drama, but the nature of the story is such of a thriller or a mystery. The film is an adaptation of the book of the same name by Kobo Abe, who also wrote the adaptation of the book for the screen. It stars well-known Japanese actor Eiji Okada as Niki Jumpei and Kyoko Kishida as the Woman. The film received critical acclaim when it was released, winning the Grand Jury Prize at the Cannes Film Festival and receiving an Academy Award nomination for Best Director.

The film opens with Niki Jumpei, a school teacher and entomologist, who goes to the barren seaside sand dunes on an expedition to find rare species of bugs. After missing the last bus back to his hotel, one of the villagers offers him a home to stay in for the night. He is dropped off in an unnamed woman’s home, located so deep in one of the sand dunes that a ladder is required to get down to it. The next day, Niki discovers that the offer of hospitality was in fact a ploy to find a male helper and mate for the woman, and he finds himself trapped in the sand dune with little hope of escape. Niki’s attempts to escape the sand dune fail and he remains trapped with the woman. We find out that the woman is under the control of the villagers, who require her to shove buckets of sand in exchange for water and food rations.  Due to their strange situation, the woman and Niki begin a sexual relationship. The Woman develops an intense sexual and emotional attachment to Niki, but his desire to return to his previous life persists. Niki does make one successful attempt at a getaway, but he is caught by the villagers who bring him back to the sand dune, an event that echoes the seeming permanency of his entrapment. Months pass before a series of events alter the future of Niki’s life in the dunes, and reveal a sharp alteration in his perspective.

Notable in the film is the way that Teshigahara creates atmosphere. The sand dunes are filmed in striking visuals that make them an overwhelming presence. Sand appears in the film in ways that give it symbolic and thematic meaning within the narrative. The introductory sequence in the film features a series of stationary shots of sand pebbles, at first in extreme close-up, cutting to reveal wider and wider shots of the sand until we see the whole mass of the dunes. The sharp stationary cuts bring attention to the sheer number and breadth of sand pebbles, suggest their uncontrollable power. When Niki enters the frame in the opening scenes he looks small in comparison to the foreboding and massive sand dunes around him. The sheer mass of the sand dunes rises up around him, blowing dust giving eerieness to this new environment. It serves to highlight the contrast between Niki’s former urban life in Tokyo and the harsh rural life he is soon to face. Sand also plays an important narrative role in the film. The futility of man against this wild and unpredictable form of nature is highlighted when Niki says: “This sand could swallow up entire cities, entire countries”. Although the sand is what is ultimately keeping Niki and the woman trapped and confined, we also find out that it helps to sustain them. We find out that the buckets of sand which the woman shovels and offers the villagers are ultimately sold to cities to make bricks for urban dwellings. Sand is used as a measure of control not only in the characters’ lives, but to help sustain the village economy as well. The sand also operates as somewhat of an allusion to the Buddhist tradition of creating and destroying sand mandalas, reflecting on the Buddhist belief of impermanence.

One of the questions the film poses centers on the ability of humans to exercise free will in modern society: is this freedom real or is it only an illusion that masks never-ending social confinement? This theme is mirrored by the different perspectives of Niki and the Woman. Niki’s entrapment is paralleled by the insects that he traps and collects at the beginning of the film. Just as Niki uses the insects for his own selfish purposes, the women and the villagers trap Niki to use him for labor and to help populate the community. At the beginning of the film Niki expresses a dissatisfaction with the ‘trappings’ of modern life in an internal monologue heard through voiceover. Despite this he still longs to return to his world of papers and certifications, which seems liberating in comparison with being trapped in a sand pit. Niki’s attitude is contrasted with that of the woman’s. The woman chooses to stay in village shoveling sand, as she feels more important in her life in the dunes than she would in regular society. Her reasons for staying in the dunes are revealed when she says “If it wasn’t for the sand, no one would bother about me”. For Niki the sand takes away his sense of purpose and meaning in life, but for the woman it constitutes it. Niki’s decision at the end of the film highlight this contrast between freedom and entrapment, and speaks to the true nature of free will.

Woman in the Dunes is a strange, absorbing mystery and a fascinating study of human character. The film cannot only be enjoyed for its human mystery, but as a visually stimulating experience in itself. The crisp black-and-white cinematography and moody lighting give viewers lucid and spellbinding visuals. Woman in the Dunes has often been described as ‘surrealist’ and would be a good film choice for viewers looking for an unconventional film that will challenge their expectations.

Categories
jidai-geki literary adaptations

Kurosawa Akira’s “Throne of Blood”

Director Kurosawa Akira’s 1957 release Kumonosu Jou (Throne of Blood) is a Japanese rendition of the famous Shakespeare play Macbeth.  The film, set possibly around the sengoku jidai (warring states period) of Japan in the 1500s, is easily classified in the jidai-geki (period piece) genre of Japanese cinema.  The name Kumonosu Jou literally means Spider’s Silk Castle, the name of the castle which the film revolves around, and in the film is translated as Cobweb Castle.  The film stars Mifune Toshirou as the Japanese Macbeth character Washizu Taketori, the commander of Fort One, and he has appeared in many other Kurosawa films such as Rashomon and Seven Samurai. His supporting cast includes Yamada Isuzu as his wife Washizu Asaji, Kubo Akira as Miki Yoshiteru, and Tachikawa Hiroshi as Lord Tsuzuki Kunimaru, the one murdered by Taketori.

The film’s story is quite a bit like Macbeth, however many aspects have been modified to conform to a Japanese setting.  Near the beginning of the film, Taketori and Yoshiteru, the commander of Fort Two, are on their way to Cobweb Castle through Cobweb Forest after a victory over a rebellion against Lord Tsuzuki.  While in the forest, they run into a ghost woman, who tells Taketori that he will become the Lord of Cobweb Castle, and Yoshiteru that he will be commander of Fort One.  In Macbeth, the one who tells Macbeth about his future is actually a witch, not a ghost.  Taketori and Yoshiteru finally reach Cobweb Castle, where they are both given promotions that were prophesied by the ghost.  Taketori eventually tells his wife, who, following the same story as Macbeth, convinces him that Yoshiteru is going to tell Lord Tsuzuki, and that Taketori has to kill Lord Tsuzuki first and take Cobweb Castle despite a lack of evidence to back up her claims.  Taketori kills Lord Tsuzuki, takes the castle, and prepares to fight the commanders of the other forts, bringing the film to a dramatic close as the enemy troops draw near to the castle.

Taketori’s character is initially one of the good, loyal samurai one imagines when one thinks of bushidō.  He is filial to his Lord, and a strong and disciplined warrior.  After the ghost predicts his ascension to Lord of Cobweb Castle, he laughs it off.  When his wife first starts suggesting to him that Yoshiteru could betray him, he dismisses her and declares that Yoshiteru is one of his closest friends and that Tokiteru couldn’t imagine betraying his Lord.  The development of his character, however, reveals him to be a rather weak-minded man.  Washizu Asaji, his wife, presses the idea that Yoshiteru could betray him, and thanks to circumstances are several points in the film succeeds in having Tokiteru take the next step towards taking Cobweb Castle.  The first time they have a conversation on the topic, Asaji tells Tokiteru that Yoshiteru has already told Lord Tsuzuki, and that the Lord will come with an army to surround the North Mansion to which Tokiteru has been granted control.  Soon afterwards, Lord Tsuzuki arrives with an army and claims that he will use the North Mansion to conduct offensives against a rebellious commander.  Tokiteru is struck by the coincidence and persuaded by his wife, and Asaji uses the opportunity to convince Tokiteru to make his move on killing the Lord.  The situation reflects the ephemerality inherent in the everyday life of a soldier and the shifting power structure during the sengoku jidai, and the character of Tokiteru is developed into a fickle and weak-minded leader relying on the strength of others for his own confidence rather than the strength of his leadership.

Kumonosu Jou opens with a lone samurai on a horse riding to the gate of Cobweb Castle.  As the lone rider is viewed in this long-shot, the size of the castle is established over the single rider, making the horseman seem small and insignificant compared to the size and power the castle seems to have.  Being a film dealing with politics and high level power relationships, the shot perfectly establishes the relationship between man and the castle as one of men being insignificant to the lasting survival of the castle.  The film also employs a large amount of close up and medium shots on Taketori when there is a banquet after Taketori has taken Cobweb Castle.  During the banquet, the ghost of the recently assassinated Yoshiteru Miki appears several times, but only so that Taketori can see him.  The close-up shots are employed in order to display the expressions of horror on Taketori’s face, as well as to give the viewer the impression of a man going mad.  The medium shots are generally employed from the side, where the other guests might have been sitting, in order to give the viewer an idea what the banquetgoers’ view of their crazed host is like, giving the film’s viewer both a 1st person and a 3rd person view of the effects of Taketori’s growing madness.

Kumonosu Jou is a film that captures well the spirit of Macbeth while transforming it into a film that fits the Japanese medieval period as well as Japanese sensibilities by modifying areas where necessary, such as the transition from witch to woman ghost, to be receptive to a Japanese audience.  There were many parallels that were worked in with the film, such as mist over the ground and in the forest, such as mist is often portrayed on the moors of Scotland.  The woman ghost that Taketori meets is even surrounded by mist.  As a film it does a great job of appealing to both those who are familiar with Macbeth while at the same time presenting it to its principally Japanese audience who may not be familiar with the work in a way that’s simply entertaining and fun.  I would recommend this film to those interested in Japanese films.

Categories
jidai-geki

Kurosawa’s “Rashōmon”: Reflecting the Many Facets of Memory

Kurosawa Akira’s Rashōmon (1950) is hailed by many as a film of innovation in both technical and narrative aspects. The film’s stunning use of light and shadows, contained sets, and flashback narrative are some of these aspects. What is particularly interesting is how they work together to reflect the complexity of memory or act of trying to unveil an absolute truth.

Like a mystery or detective story, a murder that occurred in the forest is told from the perceptive of four different witnesses, including the dead Samurai himself, who tells his version of the story as a spirit. Rashōmon begins with three men; the Woodcutter, the Priest and a Commoner, taking refuge from a rainstorm beneath the Rashōmon gate. The Woodcutter and Priest, who were present at the trial for the Samurai’s murder, begin to recount the contradicting versions of the incident as heard at the trial. The first three stories are from the perspective of a notorious bandit named Tajōmaru (Mifune Toshiro), the wife Masako (Machiko Kyo), and her dead husband, the Samurai (Masayuki Mori). The final recount of the murder is told by the Woodcutter (Takashi Shimura) who confesses that he witnessed the entire incident, but did not mention it during the trail because he did not want to get involved. Throughout, the film cuts between these three locations: the three men taking refuge at the Rashōmon gate, the court, and the forest where the murder takes place.

The different characters have conflicting interpretations of what happened, reflecting this notion, that when people retell a story, it will always be different because memory is subjective. Rather than trying to determine which of the four stories is correct, the viewer should observe how the stories correlate with each other and how Kurosawa carefully uses repetition or contrasting shots in order to reflect the complications of memory and retelling.

The first story told is by Tajōmaru, the bandit. Initially the viewer barely questions his story. However, as the film progresses and the other versions are presented, the viewer becomes less and less sure of what is true. One particular reason why the viewer is able to identify the falsity in each story is how there are several contrasting shots and events that seem to change in order to make the person who is recounting the murder appear more sympathetic. For instance, in the bandit’s story he and the Samurai have an epic duel in order to win Masako. The bandit gloriously kills the Samurai and is presented as a skillful fighter. However, in the Woodcutter’s account, the duel is clumsy and pathetic. According to the Woodcutter, the bandit is able to kill the Samurai based on sheer luck. What is most interesting about the Woodcutter’s account of the stumbling duel is how it is reminiscent of the pathetic struggle between Masako and the bandit earlier in the film. The way in which Masako stumbles and falls while failing to stab the bandit is repeated in the way in which the bandit and the Samurai duel. In this instance, the viewer sees where the bandit takes aspects of what really happened but recalls it differently. The bandit applies what can be assumed to be truthful details to different parts of the story, making him appear more dignified. The contrasting and repeated imagery/actions tell the viewer that something in the story has been distorted and therefore is questioned.

Another example of repeated actions or contrasting images is in the scenes where the Bandit and Masako laugh hysterically. The conniving cackling occurs in separate accounts of the murder. In Masako’s interpretation of the events, she is ashamed and then disturbed by the lack of remorse from her husband. She cries and begs her husband to kill her. However, in the Woodcutter’s story, Masako is a less sympathetic character. She laughs madly like the bandit did previously and forces the men to duel. The bandit and Masako’s mannerisms and exaggerated laughter are definite parallels. According to Donald Richie the length of each shot is also similar within the two scenes (Richie 124).  Again, the repeated imagery or camera work draws the viewer’s attention to the way in which truth is convoluted and altered through the process of memory.

Concealed or obscured truth is a prominent theme within the film and is further supported by the film’s setting. As Robert Altman notes in his “Special Introductory to Rashōmon,” the use of rain creates an atmosphere that feels “blanketed” or covered up.   The three men at the Rashōmon gate are additionally “blanketed,” because they are hiding undercover from the rain, while they try to figure out the events of the murder. In the end of the film, where there is a glimmer of truth to the events of the murder, the rain has stopped and the Woodcutter walks away and out into the open scenery. It’s as though one of these “layers” has been peeled away, allowing for a less claustrophobic vibe.

The actual murder of the Samurai takes place within the forest which again, exudes an atmosphere that is layered or hidden. There is the famous shot of the sun where its rays of light spew through the branches of the tall trees. The contrast between the luminous shining light and dark gloomy trees creates an image of something bright and true trying to break through obstruction.

Rashōmon is a remarkable film, not only for its careful narrative and beautiful cinematography but because it is captivating in the way in which repeated/contrasting events and particular setting echo this underlying theme of memory and hidden truth. The film forces the viewer to examine the character’s stories and observe how events get skewed when memory is all there is to rely on.

Works Cited

Richie, Donald. Rashōmon, Akira Kurosawa, Director. (Rutgers University Press, 1987)

Categories
drama, melodrama experimental gendai-geki J-horror literary adaptations

“The Face of Another”: Appearance and the Psychological Mind

Teshigahara Hiroshi’s The Face of Another (Tanin no kao, 1966), based on Abe Kobo’s novel, is a science fiction dramatic film that closely follows Mr. Okuyama’s (Nakadai Tatsuya) psychological recovery after a laboratory fire that left him entirely facially scarred. Dr. Hira (Hira Mikijro), Okuyama’s psychiatrist, proposes to him an experiment to create a lifelike mask that can assist him in the integrated return to society.  When Okuyama accepts the challenge to put on a mask created from a mold of a stranger, the mask pressures him to choose between appearance and identity. The theme of masks and identity and the usage of mirror images and repeated scenes is a trademark of many of Teshigahara’s films, and The Face of Another is no exception.

The story encircles Okuyama’s return to society followed by an accident that scarred his face. At first, he conceals himself under layers of bandages; however, everywhere he goes he is still given stares and pondering looks. He goes into a paranoia that no one wants to look at him, and feels that even his wife (Machiko Kyo) is disgusted. He seeks help from his psychiatrist, Dr. Hira, and then he is offered the chance to undergo a face transplant experiment.  Okuyama accepts without hesitation and they quickly go out in search of his new face. Surprisingly easy, a stranger agrees to sell his face to create a mold for 10,000 yen. Furthermore, Dr.Hira’s experiment turns out completely successful and Okuyama now has a face without flaws. The sudden change in appearance boosts up his confidence, but on the other hand, it influences him to drastically change his style and behaviour to a more attention-seeking manner. Thus, one may question, is the mind over matter or matter over the mind? As Okuyama continues to explore the functions of his new stylish looks, he changes his lifestyle by moving into a new apartment. Meanwhile as Okuyama undergoes his transformation, he is reminded of a film that he has seen before about a girl (Miki Irie) who was facially scarred on the left side of her face and neck due to the radiation of the Nagasaki bombing during World War II. The film intertwines these stories together as the main characters goes through the loss of appearance with the fear that they will not be accepted back into society. The story reaches its climax when Okuyama discovers that his mask can lead to the loss of control over one’s body.

The psychiatric clinic has an intriguing set design that calls for attention. The clinic has no boundaries, the furniture is always changing, and mirrors and reflective surfaces are located everywhere within the space.  The hanging of the Langer’s lines, Leonardo DaVinci’s Anatomy diagrams, random black blotches, and rigid shapes all add to the mysterious and uncomfortable atmosphere of the clinic. In addition, Teshigahara uses interesting camerawork, such as sudden dimming of lights and zoom ins and outs, especially in the clinic, to portray a sense of the unknown and the cruelty of loneliness.  Much of the film takes place inside this open space, where he undergoes the face transplant, and has discussions about how Dr.Hira plans to monitor Okuyama’s behavior after the transplant. In contrast to real psychiatric clinics which are bright with simple designs, a place where patients feel safe and prepare to recover from their psychological problems, this clinic serves as a base for radical experiments and personality alterations that make Okuyama stray off into this unknown space. When Dr. Hira repeatedly puts the plastic to shape Okuyama’s face into a machine to soften the plastic, it is a metaphor for how easily malleable the human mind is.  This paradoxical set design creates an incredible sense of eerieness.

There is a usage of symmetries, and parallelism throughout the film, Teshigahara uses camerawork such as doubling of shots, and changing the aspect ratios, to foil scenes. The story in the background of the girl who was facially scared by the Nagasaki Bombing is introduced by “melting” from a full-frame aspect ratio into a widescreen ratio. This girl serves as a constant comparison to Okuyama, when Okuyama receives stares and looks of pondering, she also did, when the film reaches its climax, her story also reaches its climax. This draws the audience into deeper thoughts about what is real and what is not. Then there is a repeated scene where Okuyama rents the apartment in a bandaged face in comparison to the scene when he rents the apartment with his new plastic face. These two scenes are filmed identically, with the actors doing the same things and with the same dialogue. However, in the second time around expressions and tones have changed, the landlord shows that he is less scared of talking to him, and Okuyama talks and walks with more confidence. It presents an interesting example of compare and contrast using this technique of identical shots. Teshigahara’s methods grab the audience’s attention in a way that penetrates minds, consequently, scenes cannot be easily forgotten.

Although The Face of Another was not a successful film internationally and it was a huge letdown from the previous Teshigahara film, The Woman of the Dunes (Suna no onna, 1964), to see it just as a twisted horror film would be a shame. The film in fact touches upon many aspects in life where one must reflect on, to find one’s true self. The Face of Another is strangely attention-grabbing and highly recommended.

Categories
gendai-geki

“Osaka Elegy”

Mizoguchi Kenji’s Osaka Elegy (Naniwa erejî, 1963) is considered to be one of the director’s most successful films.  The storylines of Mizoguchi’s films often focus on the plight of women as influenced by his own childhood.  As one of Japan’s major filmmakers, he boldly criticized women’s position in a modernizing Japanese society.  Osaka Elegy is a serious gendai-geki that focuses on life in contemporary Osaka.  The film features actress Isuzu Yamada, who starred in many of Mizoguchi’s films.

The plot revolves around a young woman, Murai Ayako (Yamada Isuzu) who works as a telephone operator at a company in Osaka.  In order to save her father from going to prison for stealing money from work, she accepts Mr. Asai’s, her boss, offer of becoming his mistress.  After repaying her father’s debt, she becomes the mistress of another employer, Mr. Fujino and pays her brother’s university tuition fees.  Ayako then tricks Mr. Fujino into giving her extra money so that she can marry her boyfriend Nishimura.  However, when she refuses to return the money, Mr. Fujino calls the police and has her arrested.  By the end of the movie, Ayako experiences the harsh realities of life and finds out just how fragile the bonds of her relationships are.

Ayako is a woman torn between her familial obligations, giri, and ninjō, personal desire.  Through her character, we catch a glimpse of how life was for women living in a patriarchal society where status is dependent upon money, power and gender.  She as a woman is treated like a second-class citizen and subjected to serve the males in her life, whether as a mistress, a daughter or a girlfriend.  Her lower-class family consists of a father who can barely fulfill his duty to provide for the family, a brother’s future on which the family’s well-being depends on him finishing his education and attaining a successful career, and a naïve younger sister who is in school.  Ayako is faced with the dilemma of conforming to the image of an innocent and respectable female, but with a family in disgrace, or sacrificing her body and desires in order to keep her family together.  She adapts to her situation and deals with the reality that as a woman, her best leverage is her beauty and youth, and uses her wits to best manipulate society’s rules.  She becomes the mistress’ of Mr. Asai and Mr. Fujino to save her family and tries as well to have everything she wants by fulfilling her own wish to marry Nishimura.  Ayako is ultimately faced with a reality in which she cannot win, but she endures throughout with perseverance and emerges a fighter.

Osaka Elegy displays Mizoguchi’s mastery of visual camerawork with the use of the long shot and long take.  In the beginning scene, Mizoguchi starts with a long shot of Mr. Asai’s house and the audience can see the grandeur of a wealthy citizen.  The camera enters the house and stops right before entering the room behind the sliding doors.  This style is typical of Mizoguchi as it is shot to appear as if the audience is personally there hiding and eavesdropping on the conversation.  Mizoguchi uses the long take when Ayako is at her apartment waiting for Mr. Asai to arrive.  The camera slowly follows her as she moves from waiting in the bedroom to waiting in the living room and when Mr. Asai finally appears, they are in the dining room.  The long take gives the viewer a sense of following her life as a mistress in real time and it also provides a feeling of her trapped situation and of living in a prison environment.  The film closes with a silent close-up of Ayako’s defiant face that speaks volumes of her strength against a restraining society.

Mizoguchi’s Osaka Elegy is a beautifully written, acted and shot film.  The theme of a woman’s fight for freedom and independence in a male dominated society is still extremely relevant in today’s world.  I would recommend this film to viewers as it is a wonderful example of a film with a strong heroine who captures an audience.  Osaka Elegy is an example of why Mizoguchi Kenji is one of Japan’s most successful filmmakers.

Categories
gendai-geki shomin-geki

“Equinox Flower”

Equinox Flower (Higanbana in Japanese) directed by Ozu Yasujirō is a 1958 film based on a novel by Ton Satomi. This film is regarded as one of the most important films that Ozu created as it was his first film in colour, marking a grand “emotional shift” from his previous works. The actor Saburi Shin, who plays the main character (father of Setsuko and Hisako) in this film, is well known to be one of Ozu’s favourite actors who also worked with him in other films such as Brothers and Sisters of the Toda Family and Tea Over Rice.  Other actors and actresses in this film include Arima Ineko who plays Setsuko, Tanaka Kinuyo who plays the mother, Kuwano Miyuki who plays the younger daughter Hisako, Sada Keiji who plays Taniguchi, Yamamoto Fujiko who plays Yukiko and Chieko Naniwa who plays Sasaki Hatsu.

The film opens with a scene of a wedding ceremony of one of Hirayama’s colleague’s daughter and Hirayama at the reception is granted the honour of making a speech for the guests. In his speech, Hirayama states that he is very happy for the newlywed couple because they found love and happiness without the help of their parents. He goes on to state that such a genuine marriage was hard to imagine during his generation because most marriages were arranged by parents or relatives. Thus, he concludes in his speech that couples who genuinely fall in love with each other and get married are lucky and he supports children who hold their independent viewpoints on love and marriage. However, later in the film Hirayama starts to plan an arranged marriage for his daughter Setsuko, but he soon finds out that Setsuko has already been seeing someone whom she plans to marry. When Hirayama gets a visit from Tanniguchi (the soon-to-be groom of his daughter), he is overwhelmed with frustration and disappointment as he had already planned for Setsuko to meet a potential marriage partner. Hirayama immediately rejects the idea and tells Setsuko to re-think her future but she in turn is furious at her father because she does not believe in arranged marriages. She insists that she has found her own love and that she will be happy without the help of anyone else.

This film illustrates the changing viewpoints on marriage. The children’s generation appears to think of arranged marriages as old-fashioned and not necessarily the best way of achieving happiness, however the parents’ generation in this film still regards their children’s marriage as their responsibility. The notion of changing viewpoints and changing society in general can also be seen through the costume design element of this film. Whether she is outside at an event or at home, Kiyoko (mother of Setsuko and Hisako) is always dressed in kimono of dark shades (very traditional kimono that most Japanese middle-aged women wore). We can see a strong contrast between Kiyoko and her children’s way of dressing, the children are only dressed in western clothes. For example, Setsuko wears a thin cotton t-shirt with knee length, patterned skirt in most scenes and her sister Hisako too wears highly western-looking outfits. Possibly because she is younger in age than Setsuko, Hisako wears brighter-coloured clothes that are usually a combination of a simple blouse with a puffy long skirt, also with bright patterns on them. Setsuko has her hair cut very short and wears bright red lipstick throughout the film, whereas her mother always has her hair in a bun with almost no make-up other than thick foundation. Setsuko’s hairstyle, make up, and costume in this film epitomized the image of “modern women” the image that women saw as appealing (during the 1950s onwards).

Having seen I Was Born But..(Umaretewa mita keredo) I recognized Ozu’s style of camera work and was able to spot aspects of it that were uniquely Ozu. Firstly, it is important to mention that Ozu makes incredible use of the architecture of the setting. For example, in the scenes taking place in Hirayama’s house (most of the scenes in this film), the camera moves swiftly across or around any furniture to focus on the characters’ faces. During emotional scenes, we often get long shots of the speaker’s face for long after the speaker has finished speaking for the time. I liked how in both I Was Born But.. and in Equinox Flower, Ozu really worked his camera around sliding doors and narrow corridors (typical of Japanese houses) which creates an effect that allows viewers to feel almost like they are following after the main characters in the film.

Although Equinox Flower is a 1958 film, it deals with issues that we can still relate to or talk about in this decade. Opinion on marriage still varies between the children’s and parent’s generations and marriage is certainly a topic that can be related to or discussed by people of any cultural background. Arranged marriages are still common in many countries in Asia, it is quite often that we still hear about it and I certainly have heard people complain or discuss about their conflicting feelings about it with their parents. In general, I like films that deal with everyday life so I would recommend this film to anyone but at the same time if it is not for the theme of the movie, I would still say that this is a highly remarkable first film in colour by Ozu. Ozu does a fantastic job in creating an environment in his film that is very accessible to anyone even across cultures, therefore I would definitely recommend this film to people of any age group and cultural background.

Categories
action chambara/chanbara jidai-geki

“Seven Samurai”

As one of the most acclaimed films ever made, and certainly among the top Japanese films in particular, Akira Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai/Shichinin no Samurai (1954) is without a doubt an ambitious, masterfully executed milestone that resonates just as strongly today as it did when it was first released. Filled with a cast of Kurosawa favorites, among them Shimura Takashi, Kimura Isao, and the always engaging Mifune Toshiro, Seven Samurai seemed prime to succeed on that merit alone.  Nonetheless, it was its genre-crossing narrative elements and strong visual aesthetic that truly cemented its place in the cinematic firmament.

Set during the Sengoku jidai or “Warring States Period” in 16th century Japan, this sprawling epic tells the not unfamiliar story of a small village which has had the unfortunate fate of being repeatedly set upon by roving bandits, to their increasing ruin. After being narrowly spared further looting on the grounds that the bandits will return when the village has actually gained something of value again to steal, the villagers become desperate to find some kind of solution to their dilemma. After conferring amongst themselves, and consulting their village patriarch, they decide to send the young Rikichi and three other farmers to find four samurai and persuade them through their limited means to come help defend the village.

Rikichi eventually manages to persuade an older, roving samurai named Shimada Kambei (Shimura Takashi) to become the first of their needed four. Kambei determines that four samurai will not be enough to adequately defend the village from the number of bandits expected to arrive, and concludes that seven would be a more realistic number. Through patience and careful investigation, the other six samurai are eventually assembled, among them the young protégé Okamoto Katsushiro (Kimura Iso) who idolizes Kambei, and the hotheaded Kikuchiyo (Mifune Toshiro) who is in fact not a “real” samurai at all, only presenting himself as one. The seven of them return to the village with Rikichi and the other farmers, and set about preparing both themselves and the villagers for the oncoming confrontation.

To complement this grand story, the visuals in Seven Samurai are as suitably “epic” as one would expect them to be. This is one of the film’s greatest strengths, in that the mise-en-scène in which the actors are placed instantly evokes a tangible, lush sense of time and place. Through Kurosawa’s dedication to broad, sweeping shots of vast fields of terrain, wide open skies, and thick copses of towering trees in dappled sunlight, it becomes all too easy for the audience to be drawn into the world of warring factions and noble, fighting samurai. For example, in the scene in which the older samurai Kyuzo’s mock-battle turned serious confrontation with a fellow samurai takes place, the two of them are situated on either side of a breathtaking wide shot that encompasses the field in which they are standing, the milling crowd of people watching, and the crumbling village wall behind them. There is nothing especially notable about the setting itself, but the way it is framed, with the two stationary points of strength on either end, turn the scene into a brief moment of hushed anticipation of something legendary. Other scenes serve in a similar fashion, shooting the actors in tight focus near the bottom of the frame while blurry yet undeniably present trees rear up before them, or as small shapes scurrying across the base of a waterfall. Even sequences which take place indoors do not seem to lack the sense of scale created by the natural vistas, due entirely to expert blocking of characters in relation to each other. At several points during the film, the scene has cause for all seven samurai to be in the same room together, and one would expect this to create a sense of claustrophobia when none of the rooms are objectively all that large to begin with. However, even though the samurai take up the entire frame, they are expertly placed at varying heights and angles that ultimately create the feeling of some kind of grand, regal portrait, a “hero shot”, creating space where there is none.

Behind these stunning visuals, however, lies the other aspect of Seven Samurai which contributes to its enduring success. As already mentioned, this film itself seems to meet the qualifications for at least two different genres, combining the best features of both to create an exceptional whole. As both a jidai-geki (period piece) and chambara (samurai film), the pervading themes center around notions of youth vs. experience, the desire to keep the past from repeating itself, and fighting for the restoration of honor. All of these themes are ones which seem to spring out of Japan’s post-war anxieties, and show up in other films of the same period. The young protégé Katsushiro represents the potential of youth, shown in how again and again the older samurai seem to try and “protect” him from getting his hands dirty, and even at one point tell him to leave the life of a samurai for his own good. Kikuchiyo’s motivations are the ones most closely tied to the desire to keep the past from repeating itself, as he was once a farmer who experienced similar strife as the villagers he’s now trying to protect.

The extent to which any of these themes are resolved, however, is debatable, and this is where the film seems to make its only stumble. It is clear that the samurai all understand the realities of the situation they’re getting themselves involved in. They know they will gain nothing tangible from it, and that the possibility for death is high. Despite this, the last line of the film reflects an unaccountably bleak outlook: “Again we’re defeated. The winners are those farmers. Not us.” The progress of the film up until this point does not seem to warrant such a dismissive conclusion, and is a puzzling end to an otherwise affecting film. Nonetheless, Seven Samurai remains a gem of Japanese filmmaking, the kind of sprawling epic that is thoroughly enjoyable in its own right. It’s not surprising that so many films after it would aspire to its many accomplishments.

Categories
gendai-geki shomin-geki

“An Autumn Afternoon”: an elder man’s sadness

An Autumn Afternoon (Japanese title: Sanma no aji), released in 1962, was written by Noda Kogo and Ozu Yasujirō and directed by Ozu Yasujirō. Therefore, the background is in Japan after World War Two, and in the film, all men wear suits, and most women wear western style clothing. The male protagonist is Hirayama Shuhei who is acted by Ryu Chishu; the female protagonist is Hirayama Michiko who is acted by Iwashita Shima. This film is the last performance Ozu Yasujirō directed. In addition, this film is one of Ozu Yasujirō’s colour films. Most films Ozu directed focus on people’s daily life, and the storyline of this movie is about the Hirayama family.  Therefore, this film’s genre should be shomin-geki and gendai-geki.

Hirayama Shuhei, who is an elderly man and has a great job, lives with two unmarried children, who are his oldest daughter and the second son, because his wife died, and the oldest son lives outside with his wife. The opening of the movie is that Shuhei’s friend, Kaweai Shuzo, comes to meet Shuhei and wants to introduce a nice guy to Shuhei’s daughter, Michiko because he thinks it is time for Michiko to marry, but Shuhei thinks that Michiko is still too young to marry. However, once Shuhei meets his high school teacher in high school reunion, he finds that after his teacher retired, he still lives with his daughter who is unmarried due to taking care of her father. The relationship between his teacher and teacher’s daughter is pretty nervous and chilly because the daughter could not endure his father’s bad habits anymore and regrets that she did not marry when she was young. After Shuhei sees his teacher’s example, he does not want to be like his teacher in the future; thus, he hurries Michiko to marry. There is a man, who liked Michiko, and Michiko liked him, too, but at this time, he had had a fiancée because he thought that Michiko would take care of her father and would not marry forever. However, in the end, Michiko still marries someone.

Ozu used a lot of long shots when he shoots any hallway of any place in this film, and this shooting is as if audiences just stand at the end of a hallway and can see clearly what things happen. In addition, by the end of the movie, Ozu uses the long shot again to shoot the sight of Shuhei’s back. This shooting makes this frame look sad and lonely because Ozu wanted to show that Shuhei feels gloomy and regretful; thus, the long shooting here gives audience another feeling and perception.

There are three main background songs which are impressive; they are a brick song, a majestic march, and a dreary song. The brick one shows that people in the film joyfully get together; for example, when Shuhei attends the reunion and had dinner with his old friends, this brick song is always playing. The majestic march is played when Shuhei has dinner with a man who was his military subordinate before. When this majestic march is played in the film, audiences can see that they were very majestic-looking soldiers during World War Two. The dreary song appears when Shuhei is bothered by things or feels upset. Especially, in the final frame, this music can express Shuhei’s depression without any words.

I chose this film to do film review because this storyline is about the relationship between a father and a daughter, and this movie makes me think if I were Michiko, whether I would choose the same way as she did in the end. In the whole film, Ozu only focused on the change of Shuhei’s mind and his emotion, I think that Ozu should clearly show Michiko’s mind and thoughts more because if he shows Michiko’s feelings more, the atmosphere of the ending will be more touching not just very cheerless. The theme of this movie is that children will leave their parents someday even if their parents may feel sad and do not want their children to leave. In the ending of the movie, Shuhei feels upset because his daughter would not live with him anymore, but in my opinion, leaving is good for both children and parents because children can become more independent, and parents can enjoy the remainder of their lives by themselves. In addition, once his daughter marries someone, it does not mean that he could not see her again. Therefore, I think the ending should be happier, but Ozu makes the end sad because he may want to show parents’ sadness which children often cannot notice after they leave. So although I do not really like the ending, I am still touched.

Categories
drama, melodrama literary adaptations thriller

“Tengoku to Jigoku”: Heaven and Hell

Kurosawa Akira’s Tengoku to Jigoku, also known as High and Low, was based on a novel by Edward Mcbain. It was released in 1963. Kurosawa is widely famous for his samurai classics, but he was equally proficient at making High and Low which is a contemporary drama and thriller. The film is generally based on the lives of the people that live in completely different social statuses. Gondo Kingo (Mifune Toshiro), a wealthy executive, is torn between the decision of whether to help his driver’s son, Shinichi, who has been mistakenly kidnapped instead of Gondo’s son, Jun, or use the money to take over the shoe company. High and Low is considered the most morally black and white movie of all Kurosawa’s films. The police are depicted as the white since they are looked at as the protectors and the villain is looked at as totally black and evil.

The film mainly focuses on Gondo and the decisions he has to make. The kidnapper enjoys putting Gondo in a philosophical dilemma where he has to choose between being a good man and helping his driver’s son or moving forward with his plan to take over the shoe company which he had secretly planned for many years. His wife, Reiko (Kyoko Kagawa), tries to persuade him to pay the ransom since they have known the driver for a long time and she wants to help him. However, Gondo is reluctant since if he pays the ransom, he will go bankrupt and lose everything that he worked so hard to create. Gondo in the end decides to pay the ransom because he thinks that he will be able to make his own company again, but a life of a child cannot be replaced. While police and everyone around him try to persuade him to pay the ransom, his secretary Kawanishi (Tatsuya Mihashi) is opposed to the idea because Gondo promised him that he would give Kawanishi a high rank in the company if Gondo succeeds in taking over the company, so if Gondo loses everything, Kawanishi loses everything and he desperately does not want that. Therefore, Kawanishi ends up helping the other executives of the shoe company destroy Gondo by spying on Gondo and telling the other executives what Gondo is up to. The film gets thrilling as the police start finding evidence about the kidnapper and start narrowing down the suspects.

The film starts off with Gondo’s luxurious house which is on top of a hill. Here, Gondo’s house looks as if it is heaven compared to the houses that are on the bottom of the hill. When the Japanese title is directly translated it becomes Heaven and Hell, so in the film, Gondo’s house is looked at as Heaven and the people in the lower part of town live in Hell. The way Kurosawa uses the camera and the technologies that he uses are very interesting. There is a scene where pink smoke comes out of the chimney of the garbage disposal because the kidnapper burned the briefcase that had the ransom in it. This is very shocking because the film is a black-and-white movie but the smoke is coloured pink. This is the only time when colour is used. After the film was finished, Kurosawa coloured the smoke pink so the audience could see the colour. Kurosawa uses many vertical movements throughout the film. For example when Gondo opens the curtains of his house, slides the huge windows open and the scene with the bullet train.

Kurosawa uses various methods to show what is going to happen next. The dominant technique that he uses is the fadeaway or the overlapping of two figures. The most famous scene for this is when Gondo is at jail facing the person who is about to be executed. The culprit says that he is not scared of dying and does not regret what he did. When the culprit is making his speech, his figure overlaps with Gondo who is sitting in front from him. This might be showing that Gondo shares the same feeling with the culprit. Gondo acts like he is fine with starting from square one in the shoe business, but is at the same time scared because he does not know the hardships that awaits him.

High and Low generally does not have any disturbing scenes, but some may find the scene when the detectives go to the drug district disturbing. Other than that, most people would consider this film a masterpiece. Kurosawa only reveals evidence little by little, so the thrill of what is going to happen next is never lost. Also, the film is based on an English novel so it would not be so difficult for people who are not Japanese and do not know much about Japan to enjoy the film.

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