Month: October 2010

Categories
comedy drama, melodrama shomin-geki

Positivity Breeds Happiness

Tokyo Chorus (Tōkyō no kōrasu) is a silent film made in 1931 by director Ozu Yasujirô.  It deals with the realities of family life with economic struggles, combined with a comedic spin that Ozu used to present these issues in a more light-hearted manner.  This satirical shomin-geki follows the daily life of the working-class, insurance company clerk, Okajima Shinji Okajima (Okada Tokihiko), who loses his job as a result of standing up for an elderly colleague who he feels was unjustly dismissed from his job.  Okajima takes it with pride and deals with the struggles of supporting his family while trying to keep his dignity and positivity high.

The story begins in a schoolyard setting with the teacher, Mr. Omura (Saito Tatsuo), directing some outdoor drills with the students, and Okajima is introduced as the foolish student who always shows up late and mocks the teacher behind his back.  The film then flashes forward to show Okajima all grown up with a wife (played by Yagumo Emiko) and three young kids.  While preparing for work, his son asks him for a bicycle and – being the loving and caring family-man that he is – he promises to buy his son the bicycle after work since he was getting his annual bonus that day.  Unfortunately, things do not go as planned because after protesting his colleague’s unfair dismissal (leading to a rather comedic fight with his boss that involves poking each other with folded fans), Okajima, too, was dismissed from working there anymore.  Returning home with a scooter instead of a bike immediately provokes disappointment from his son and a temper tantrum ensues.  After notifying his wife of his recent unemployment, his daughter soon falls ill and needs to be taken to the hospital, but he reassures his wife that he will find a way to make money.  He ends up finding a quick source of income and manages to pay the hospital bills so that his daughter can return home healthy again.  He remains positive and makes the most out of the time he spends with his family.  With hopes of finding a job, he goes to the employment agency but has no luck.  However, upon leaving the agency, Okajima bumps into his former teacher, Mr. Omura, who offers him temporary employment helping out with his newly opened restaurant for a while. Okajima agrees to take Mr. Omura’s offer only after determining that it was out of friendship – not pity, stating that being poor makes a man sensitive.  Mrs. Okajima is humiliated after discovering that her husband had resorted to taking on a very lowly task, however, she eventually accepts how hard he is trying to earn money for his family so she offers to help out in Mr. Omura’s restaurant.  The film ends on a bittersweet note as there is a class reunion at Mr. Omura’s restaurant and Okajima receives life-changing news.

Ozu has a distinguishable form of filming, in that the camera is placed at a very low level, about one to two feet off the ground, and remains stable no matter where the actors are moving within the shot.  This is what he called the “tatami shot” because the height is similar to the eye level of a person kneeling on a tatami mat, or even lower.  Because of this low angle, however, the tops of actors’ heads are sometimes out of the frame and there are shots of only their bodies, although this could have been done on purpose.  There tend to be a lot more long shots than closeups, showing all the characters at once instead of closing in on one character at a time.  There were also other interesting shots such as when one employee at the insurance company is peering through the keyhole of the washroom to see what his colleague was up to.  This shot really makes it look as through the viewer was in his position looking through the keyhole.  Instead of using fading techniques to transition from one scene to another, Ozu tends to cut straight to the next scene and usually introducea it with a stable shot of scenery (such as trees swaying in the wind outside the school), or to static objects (such as a table in the home that sets up his family life) to set up where the next scene will take place.

The use of titles (to explain the situation) is applied sparingly throughout the film because the expressive emotions conveyed though the actors’ performances speak for themselves.  Okada Tokihiko’s character sustains genuine positivity and determination that reigns throughout the film, which is what makes it so uplifting.  A major theme in this film is dignity.  The family values their pride and dignity very much.  Okajima stands up to his boss for what he feels is the right thing to do in order to defend his colleague’s unjust dismissal.  He has no regrets about what he does and does not blame anyone for the unfortunate result of his protest.  The title, Tokyo Chorus, relates to the theme of this film because it seems that no matter what negative things happen in his life (losing his job, disappointing his son, his daughter falling ill, etc.), Okajima is able to still smile and positively get through things without accepting pity from anyone.  This is further exemplified when Mr. Omura is offering the job to Okajima and the desperate hope that his teacher will not withdraw the offer is written all over Okajima’s face as he awaits the reassuring nod from Omura, accepting that he wants to save his dignity.  Ozu’s attention to detail and mastering these emotion-focused shots allows viewers to really take in the beautiful essence of this film, as well as other films that he creates.

The cohesiveness of this film in the way that it flows along so brilliantly is what makes this simple story so captivating.  It may be categorized as a satirical portrayal of family life, but, all laughs aside, it also deals seriously with the hardships of getting through the tough times in life.  It has a good balance of mood for both of these elements and is definitely a heart-warming film.  If you enjoy these types of light-hearted films that do not contain a lot of drama in it and will provide you with lots of laughs, then Tokyo Chorus is an uplifting film for the whole family to enjoy.

Categories
comedy drama, melodrama

Ozu Yasujirō’s “The End of Summer”/ “Kohayagawake no aki” (1961)

One of many characteristics of Ozu’s films is that many of them are shot in a family background, which enables him to discuss just about every aspect of human life and so is his penultimate film, The End of Summer. Yasujirō Ozu’s The End of Summer/ Kohayagawake no aki (1961) is a combination of drama and comedy. In the film, Hara Setsuko, Tsukasa Yoko, and Aratama Michiyo play the three daughters of the Kohayagawa family and Nakamura Ganjiro plays the father Kohayagawa, who runs a sake brewery company at Kyoto.

Unlike the three daughters, who are all discreet in their behaviors, their father Kohayagawa Manbei is a carefree man who frequently goes out of house to meet his former mistress called Tsune Sasaki. Despite the fact that his company is on the verge of merger due to economic hardship, he leaves the company matters to his second daughter, Fumiko (Aratama Michiyo) and her husband who helps running the brewery. In the meantime, both Kohayagawa’s widowed daughter, Akiko, and the youngest daughter, Noriko, are asked to consider having a marriage soon but they are hesitant to reply to the matter just yet. Now back to Kohayagawa, Fumiko, who lives with him, is frustrated when she finds out that her father is still meeting Sasaki even after having gone through all that troubled past when her mother was alive. The tension between Kohayagawa and Fumiko builds up until Kohayagawa collapses from a heart attack after returning from his late wife’s memorial service. Fumiko apologizes to her father for being too hard on him. Even after the life-threatening incident, however, Kohayagawa manages to meet Sasaki again after his recovery.

A striking pattern of lighting that is explicitly used in the film is that all women, especially the three daughters, are shot in an extremely bright light to the point where their faces glow like pure-white snow. This lighting method seems to be used throughout the whole film, which causes the male actors’ faces darker than it should be. The method favors the actresses to stand out more than the actors because clearly, the actresses’ beautified faces help to attract more attention from audiences.

A second distinctive aspect of the film is the use of music between transitioning shots. Whenever a scene switches to different setting or moves on to shoot other group of characters as the story further develops, it is notable that a piece of Western music is played during the transitioning shot being introduced. Although such particular shots remain not more than a couple of seconds, I think the technique is quite an eye-opening method, which suits very well with one of several themes in the film.

One of the prominent themes throughout the film is the Western influence in the process of modernization. The bar, which appears a number of times as a meeting place for Akiko and her arranged meeting partner set by her family member, is highly decorated with a Western-style bar and the restaurant where Noriko and her co-workers have a farewell party for one of her male co- workers. Besides the set design, most of all males wear Western clothing except Kohayagawa. More importantly, however, Sasaki’s daughter, Yuriko, seems to represent the younger Japanese generation (including Noriko) with substantial Western influence through their Western clothing.

Overall, The End of Summer as a film itself has an appealing storyline of an ordinary Japanese family who faces what families in real life also face; love and hate relationship between family members that is portrayed between Fumiko and her father, Kohayagawa. I must say that I chose this film because of the familiarity of the topic instead of a film that is based on a wartime story, which I would have found very hard to associate on a topic that I have never experienced in my life.  Although it was a little confusing for me to figure out the roles of all the cast who appear onscreen, it made me watch the film more than twice and hence allowed me to comprehend all the better.

Lastly, please be advised that this film contains a disturbing crematorium scene that might not be suitable for children or anyone with heart problems.

Categories
anti-war drama, melodrama

“The Idiot”

“The Idiot” was released in Japan under the name “Hakuchi” in 1951, directed by Kurosawa Akira and later released in the United States in 1963. This drama film was based on the storyline by Russian author Fyodor Dostoevsky depicting the aftermath of World War II exploring the themes of money, relationships, friendships, and society. The main characters of Nasu Taeko, Kameda Kinji, and Akama Denkichi are played by Hara Setsuko, Mori Masayuki, and Mifune Toshiro, repectively. The two female characters are both attracted by the main male character, who has become an idiot after experiencing psychological trauma during the war,

After being released from a mental hospital in Okinawa, Kameda boards a train headed to his hometown of Hokkaido. On board the train, Kameda has a nightmare bringing back wartime memories of close to death situations. He lets out a horrible shriek waking up all those aboard the train. This incident on the train leads to Kameda befriending Akama, son of a wealthy family who takes an instant liking to him. After they arrive in Hokkaido, the majority of the people look down on Kameda because he is an idiot, but gradually change their minds after they find out he is kindhearted and not one to hold grudges against others who have mistreated him. As the story unfolds, Taeko is introduced as a woman who seems to “sell” herself to any man who can “bid” the highest amount of money. Akama successfully challenges Kayama to become the highest “bidder.” However, he soon finds out that he will never have her heart for she has fallen in love with Kameda. Akama is then torn between friendship and love.

What struck me the most about this film was Kurosawa’s camerawork. He uses steady shots with minimal zooming to focus on the characters throughout the length of their conversations and occasionally scanning the set to emphasis the setting. In the beginning of the movie, Kurosawa scans the length of the train to illustrate the atmosphere and the number of people Kameda has disturbed with his scream. The camera then stops and focuses on Kameda and Akama when they begin their conversation. In another scene, Kurosawa uses long shots to portray the lavish lifestyle Taeko enjoys at Kayama’s residence, showing the exquisite furnishings and the luxuries that are available to her. The long shots also emphasize the spaciousness of the house and the number of guests it can accommodate.

Another aspect of the film I really enjoyed was the selection of music and special sound effects used to accompany the storyline. It adds as well as giving emphasis to the atmosphere of the situation bringing out the emotions that the characters are experiencing.  One scene where this is demonstrated is when Kameda, Ayako, Mrs Ono, and Kayama were outside by the pond where a number of masked people were skating. At first, the music makes the mood mysterious and suspenseful. The atmosphere becomes more lighthearted and cheerful when the music changes into a more cheerful tone. Moreover, in the closing scenes of the film, the music playing in the background suggests what might have happened by defining the mood with sorrowful music. This helps the audience understand despite a vague ending.

This film gave me an insight on what how the war might have affected people, creating long term psychological problems. While the storyline was somewhat interesting, I found the film too slow-paced for my liking. The slow flow of the film left me impatient but allowed me sufficient time to read the English captions. Overall, I would recommend “The Idiot” to viewers interested in post-war Japanese cinema.

Categories
drama, melodrama shomin-geki

Tokyo Story

Tokyo Story (Tôkyô monogatari, 1953), directed by the legendary Ozu Yasujirô, is one of the most widely acclaimed films in the history of Japanese cinema, and certainly considered an example of Ozu’s finest work. Its cast includes several of the director’s favourites: Chishu Ryu and Higashiyama Chieko star as an endearing elderly couple visiting their children, and Hara Setsuko plays the role of their doting daughter-in-law, Noriko. Although as a shomin-geki the film looks at the simple everyday happenings of a large family amidst a changing world, Tokyo Story communicates itself in a way that is entirely complex in detail and emotion. The movie becomes beautiful in its simplicity in that its strong themes can be seen to arise from its subtlety – in what is indirectly said with precise camera shots and what is implied with strategic dialogue.

The film’s plot focuses on the intricacies of the Hirayama family, which come to be revealed during the course of Shukichi and Tomi Hirayama’s visit from their quiet hometown of Onomichi to their children in Tokyo and Osaka. With all of their children now being grown up, with families and work of their own, Shukichi and Tomi soon come to realize that their expected ‘holiday’ to spend time as a family becomes more of a burden, most noticeably to their two eldest, Koichi (Yamamura So) and Shige (Sugimura Haruko). Both children consider themselves too busy with their own lives to possibly spare time to attend to their parents, and as a result, they continuously call upon the devoted Noriko – widow of their late brother – to assume the role of tour guide and caretaker, to which she readily agrees. Again and again, the parents are shown to receive poor treatment and disregard, illustrating the change in dynamics between parent and child, along with the shifting of generations. This is further complemented by the events taking place with the backdrop of an overt industrial and metropolitan presence, suggesting its possible influence on the domestic and the inevitability of change. Although the children do make half-hearted attempts to please their parents – while, more often than not, simply serving their own interests – the couple decides to make the return trip back home, during which Tomi becomes gravely ill. Upon arriving in Onomichi, it becomes apparent that the mother falls into critical condition, now forcing all the children to visit the parents. The different reactions that thus ensue and, more importantly, the conversations that they begin to spark bring the film to an emotional climax, where one can no longer escape and must confront what has become of their family.

Throughout the film, Ozu’s attention to detail in specific camera shots emphasizes the different aspects of each character, particularly among the children, and functions as an effective character development tool. In fact, the audience is able to gain great insight into the characters simply by observing the behaviour that Ozu chooses to focus on. This is especially true of Shige’s character. Arguably the most uncaring of all the siblings, she is constantly shown to adopt annoyed, frustrated, and unconcerned facial expressions whenever she is imposed with the idea of entertaining her parents. Although she appears decent in front of Shukichi and Tomi, Ozu often lets the camera linger long enough to catch Shige’s reaction as her parents exit the scene, revealing a much different – and much less understanding – daughter. Her actions captured on camera are also shown to commonly contradict her dialogue. A great example of this is when she explains over the phone to Noriko that she “ought to take them really, but [she’s] too busy at the shop,” the irony being that, as she says this, she calmly fans herself and puts her legs up to relax. At times, these deliberate shots even have a stronger impact than what is said by the characters, as it often shows that what they say is evidently different from what they feel. The way in which Ozu sets his camera to deliberately capture such moments adds a level of complexity to the character and provides a more complete understanding of their true feelings.

Another subtle tactic that Ozu appears to use in order to convey underlying messages throughout the film is through implicature within dialogue. Before the majority of the confrontations occur between characters near the end of the film, where opinions are stated more directly and outright, many issues are brought to the attention of the audience in this way. Rather than having the characters immediately stating what is on their mind and outright stressing themes such as the changing dynamics between parent and child, Ozu and co-writer Noda Kôgo merely create an underlining message that builds in force as the plot progresses. In this way, they ask the audience to look more deeply into the dialogue, to be more engaged in the film, and to come to an understanding of possible themes on their own. When Shukichi, amidst drinking sake and talking with his friends, is given the compliment, “I think you’re the luckiest of all… With good sons and daughters to be proud of,” one can see how an outsider’s perspective is much different from an insider’s, and that this statement doesn’t appear to be fully true based on the behaviour of characters such as Koichi and Shige. From this questionable comment, the viewer may start to wonder: what makes a good son or daughter? Is a child “a failure” based on their lack of a career or their lack of compassion for their parents? These are the questions that the dialogue inspires, implying greater themes and contributing to the understanding of the film.

Tokyo Story may first appear to be a simple story that can be presented in a simple way, but Ozu Yasujirô’s ability to focus on detail and maintain subtle undertones allows this film to reach its full potential. With the use of precise camera shots that provide insight into a figure’s behaviour or personality, characters are truly well developed and the viewer is able to gain a true sense of what each person is about. In order to understand a character, it becomes just as important to see what they are indirectly saying in a particular shot as it is to hear what they directly say. Using similar subtleties within the dialogue, the film is also able imply multiple layers within statements, and encourages the audience to delve deeper into the true meaning of it all. Ozu Yasujirô’s superb directing abilities certainly shine within this piece, and come together to deliver a beautiful film that simply is Tokyo Story – a definite classic and an impressive representative among Japanese films.

Categories
anti-war drama, melodrama

“The Idiot”

Kurosawa Akira’s very well-made movie The Idiot (Hakuchi, 1951), seems to show a genre of drama. Kurosawa seems be focusing on the aftereffects of war. Even though this movie was made after a period of time after the war, Kurosawa seeks to attempt to prove that the aftereffects of war can terrorize people through many years and affect them thoroughly in their lives.

The story begins with the main character Mr. Kameda screaming and waking up from his terrible nightmare of getting shot. He shares his nightmare experience with the person beside him whom is Mr. Akama and then explains to Mr. Akama that he suffers from a disease called “dementia epilepsy”. At first it seems to be that Kurosawa is already hinting to the audience that the idiot is Mr. Kameda himself. However, as the movie goes on, we see that Mr. Kameda encounters two women and both of them fall in love with him. Mr. Akama on the other hand, is a very wealthy man and is in love with one of the woman named Taeko. It seems to be that he is trying to marry Taeko but another character Mr. Kayama is also trying to marry Taeko for money and powerful social status. However, both of them do not get any chances as Taeko falls in love with Mr. Kameda. As time goes on, it shows that he cannot gain the trust and love from the woman he loves and so tragic events happen to him and the woman. In the end, it seems to me that the idiot is not only Mr. Kameda himself but Mr. Akama too.

Throughout the whole movie, the setting is always snowing which gives the audiences a chilling and unpleasant atmosphere. Also, the main character Mr. Kameda seems to be very gentle and always speaking his polite form in Japanese. However, the other people look down to him and speak to him impolitely in Japanese just because they know he suffers from the disease and thinks of him as an idiot. Moreover, Kurosawa always seems to try and focus the camera on Mr. Kameda and show the audiences his expressions. Usually, Mr. Kameda shows an expression of politeness or sorrow which makes me think that Kurosawa is trying to make the audience feel sympathy for Mr. Kameda. Also, because that the audience already know that Mr. Kameda suffers from the disease which creates another feeling of sympathy for him. Also, I also think that Mr. Kameda and many of the characters’ acting are all very realistic for they all got my attention.

From this movie, I think that it’s rather interesting for me to watch because I think the plots in the movie are rather intriguing and detailed. I personally love to watch dramatic movies that show many conflicts between the characters. Also, in this movie there seems to be a three way triangular love which intensifies the movie even more. Furthermore, it also occurs to me that the movie may be interesting, but the movie itself is a little too long in my opinion and also sometimes the storyline is very confusing which is hard to understand. I would still recommend this movie to everyone because I think it’s rather important to learn about the aftereffects of the World War II  on people and also how the war affects their living style.

Categories
J-horror

“Matango”

Matango, also known as Attack of the Mushroom People or Fungus of Terror, is a psychological and science fictional horror film. It is directed by Honda Ishirō, who is well known for his movie Godzilla (Gojira, 1954). The movie was released on August 11, 1963. It was never officially released in America but it was first aired on American television in 1965.

The film first starts off with a scene at a psychiatry ward where a man is telling the story. It is a story about a group of people who decide to go on a trip on a yacht to escape their stressful lives. On board are psychologist Marai (the man in the psychiatry ward); his girlfriend Akiko; wealthy businessman Kasai; famous singer Mami; writer Yoshida; sailor Koyama; and captain Sakuda. Their pleasant trip comes to an abrupt end when they are blown off course by an unexpected storm. As they float in their yacht aimlessly, they soon discover an island with a jungle and an abandoned ship covered with fungus and a strange type of gigantic mushroom growing on it. There is some canned food on the ship and so they decide to clean the ship and use it as their shelter. They discover a log by the crew the previously owned the ship that warns of the mushroom’s damaging effects on the human nervous tissue. The captain warns the crew not to eat the mushrooms but it is very hard temptation due scarcity of food. One night, as Kasai tries to steal the limited supply of canned food, he encounters a monster and screams for the help of the others. The next scene is a cut to the next morning where everybody is discussing of what they saw. Things do not get any better as tempers being to flare and everyone starts turning on each other under the stress of not knowing whether or not they will be able to make it off this island alive. Sakuda eventually betrays them all and steals whatever is left of the food as well as the yacht and escapes off the island. Yoshida eventually gives in and eats the mushrooms which eventually became addicting. Yoshida’s appearance begins to change as well as his personality. He starts to act very oddly and on two occasions threatens to kill all the men on the ship. He eventually shoots Koyama and he and Mami, who has an affair with Yoshida, are forced off the ship and they disappear into the jungle and survive off of the giant mushrooms. Eventually Kasai gives into the stressful environment and follows Mami, who came back to find Kansai, into the jungle. She shows him the mushrooms that she and Yoshida have been living off of and he eventually gives in to the temptation and eats the mushroom that also gives him an eccentric high. She explains to him that when you eat the mushroom, you eventually turn into a mushroom monster (a Matango). Now only Marai and Akiko are left on the ship which leaves the question of will they be able to withstand the temptation of eating the mushrooms and also will they make it off the island alive?

The special effect make up for this movie is very well done, considering this is a film made in the 1960s. The faces of the mushroom people were very realistic and scary. In fact, the makeup was so well done that the movie was banned in Japan for 2 years because the makeup resembled wounds suffered from the bombing in Hiroshima and Nagasaki during World War II. The use of weather to portray the stressful environment of the island is used very well. In the beginning of the film, it was all rays of sunshine as the crew enjoyed their journey on the yacht. As the people begin to suffer in depression and stress, the weather eventually turns into a rainy season. The change of weather allows the audience to feel the gloomy mood on the island. The weather made the island feel very damp and depressing. The constant rain made me, as an audience member, feel very agitated and claustrophobic.

One of the more memorable scenes for me was when they first encountered the mushroom monster in the ship. Honda uses lighting to create shadows which was very appropriate because of the tense mood. When the monster first appears in front of Kansai, the camera sticks very closely to the monster, as to not reveal the grotesque figure which leaves you to your own imagination. The slow and lagging movement also added to the suspense. When the mushroom monster enters the room, I felt the shadows allowed me to have a better look at the mushroom monster because it forces you to focus on the parts that were in the light.

Overall I enjoyed watching the film. It has a very strong message which was to not give into temptation, which was the mushrooms, which symbolized drugs. The people on the crew knew these mushrooms should not be touched but they eventually gave in. If Yoshida never touched the mushrooms, they could have all still been on the ship together fighting for survival together. The film also depicts very well what can happen to someone when they are left in desperate situations; betrayal, tempers flaring and friends turning on each other as they all fight for survival. The ending was very surprising and shocking which made it a great finish to this psychological, science fictional horror film.

Categories
drama, melodrama experimental jidai-geki literary adaptations

Double Encounters on “Double Suicide” (1969)

Shinoda Masahiro’s Double Suicide (Shinju: Ten no Amijima, 1969) is a film adaptation of the 1721 doll drama, The Love Suicides at Amijima (Monzaemon Chikamatsu). Conforming to the jidai-geki genre, Double Suicide examines the notions of the giri (social obligation) and ninjo (personal emotion) conflict and, to some extent, issues of the bourgeois social system. In the context of film adaptations, Shinoda strictly and successfully retains Chikamatsu’s vision of death as the ultimatum against social structures during the time period. With that being said, Shinoda produces an original cinematic style and stylistically creates a melodramatic device by drawing his inspiration from kabuki, a highly stylized traditional Japanese doll theatre, and bunraku, which is the traditional Japanese puppet theatre. Perhaps the most prominent features of this film is Shinoda’s use of kuroko (stagehands/puppet handlers dressed in black – a common feature of the puppet theatre), who interacts with the live actors, and the same actress to play both the wife Osan and the courtesan Koharu played by Shima Iwashita. Both features relate to Jihei (Kichiemon Nakamura) and Koharu’s inevitable fate as they both undergo the harsh realities of social restrictions and eventually, as implied by the title of the film, commit suicide together.

The story revolves around Jihei and Koharu’s tragic love for one another in the context of the Japanese social structure and giri. Set in eighteenth-century Japan, Jihei is a paper merchant who falls in love with Koharu, a courtesan, while neglecting his wife Osan and two children. He hopes to redeem her from her master of the prostitute quarter, but is unable to because he spent all of his money on his appointments with Koharu. Unbeknownst by Jihei, Koharu plans and swears to kill herself instead because of her social obligation to Osan (giri). From one woman to another, Osan, regardless of discovering his infidelity, writes a letter to Koharu begging her to spare Jihei’s life. Unfortunately, Jihei misinterprets Koharu’s intentions and accuses her for her act of betrayal. Eventually, Jihei and Osan finds out that Koharu is about to be bought by the master of the prostitute quarters, which prompts Osan to admit to Jihei about the women’s agreement. Now that Osan must fulfill her obligation to Koharu, she helps Jihei to redeem Koharu before she is physically removed by her father. The plot reaches its climax when Jihei attempts to break free from social conventions through a series of erotic and unfortunate events in order to reunite with Koharu.

The camerawork is heavily influenced by the kuroko, who essentially determine the character’s fates and act as agents of the audience’s reactions. In an opening sequence featuring Jihei entering the courtesan quarters, Jihei enters into the shot from the left and stares directly towards the camera. Immediately, the camera follows him from right to left, behind the wooden beams, causing the discontinuity of the audience’s view of Jihei and his directional path (he enters the frame from the left and proceeds to walk further into the quarters by entering the frame from the right). After a few cuts, one must take note on Shinoda’s clever crossing of the 180-degree axis rule to make it appear that Jihei is walking back and forth (horizontally and vertically) rather than continuing in one direction. The sudden cut to a kuroko blowing out the lantern flame freezes the people walking around Jihei. We watch him walk through the frozen crowd. Then it cuts to a kuroko holding a candle. Afterwards, we watch Jihei appearing from the left of the frame, who then approaches towards the kuroko and mesmerizingly follows the candle flame, as if he is attached to the kuroko by an invisible thread. After passing several scenes of courtesans and clients, the camera cuts to a kuroko’s point of view, revealing a group of kuroko slowly disbanding and leaving the scene. That scene reveals Koharu and Jihei, following an additional shot of Jihei watching his own scene. The use of kuroko during that sequence, as well as during Koharu and Jihei’s conversation, seem to suggest and reinforce the idea that a person’s fate is literally beyond their control. Moreover, the quick shots of the kuroko’s facial expression and their omnipresence could be representations of them gazing into the scene, much like the audience, as well as directing the emotional reactions of the spectator. Throughout the film, the kuroko are constantly, but indirectly, helping the actors lead to their fate (i.e. a kuroko helps Osan packs the clothes up which helps free Koharu). With the huge presence of the kuroko, it enhances every framework and scene to build emotional responses both from the characters and spectators.

The use of the same actress, Shima Iwashita (who plays Osan and Koharu), plays a significant role regarding giri and ninjo. Osan and Koharu have clear distinctions regarding their appearances to fit their role in the film. Koharu’s heavy make-up and flawless appearance convince the audience that she is one of the most popular courtesans who seems to capture the attention of many clients, including Jihei. Opposite to Koharu is Osan, a housewife. She does not have make-up, which makes her appear older, wiser, and more tired. An important feature is the colour of her teeth. The pure blackness of her teeth seems to reflect her age. While Koharu appears to be young and beautiful, Osan seems less attractive, despite our knowledge that the same actress portrays both characters. As mentioned briefly earlier on, both women are obligingly bounded by the letter Osan has sent to Koharu without Jihei’s knowledge. Koharu’s giri obligation to Osan forces her to kill herself regardless of her love for Jihei (ninjo). The same applies to Osan. When she realizes that Koharu is about to be bought by the owner, she obligates herself to save Koharu and insists that Jihei should help Koharu out. Additionally, Osan encourages Jihei to be with Koharu in order to fulfill her happiness, disallowing the ninjo aspect to overcome her feelings for Jihei. The use of the same actress indicates similar situations that Japanese women go through during the Edo period regarding giri. It also seems to suggest that no matter what the role women play in society and its social structure, they must conform to the concept of giri, as demonstrated by Shima Iwashita’s internalized double roles.

Double Suicide is known for its excellent practice on kabuki to explore realism in terms of the stage sets and images used in the film. It is an incredibly artistic and smart film that knows how to use the kuroko in an appropriate manner which enhances the audience’s experience of witnessing a traditional Japanese theatre drama in cinematic form. One must be aware of subtle nudity. Double Suicide is an interesting film to those who appreciate filmic styles and are curious about the film’s unique theatre and cinema crossovers.

Categories
drama, melodrama new cinema / new wave cinema

The Real Housewives of Japan: Reality versus “Conventional” in “Intentions of Murder“

Imamura Shohei’s Intentions of Murder (Akai Satsui, 1964) is a work that may be called “classic Imamura.” Considered a part of new-wave cinema in Japan, this shomin-geki film deals head-on with issues related to the role of women in the household, female sexuality, and transformation of self, while offering a look into the “real” Japan. The heroine of the story, Takahashi Sadako (Harukawa Masumi), is a dim-witted, belittled housewife who is stuck in an unfulfilling common-law marriage. Her husband, Takahashi Riichi (Nishimura Ko), is an emotionally abusive, sickly man who not only treats Sadako more like a slave than a lover, but also actively leads an extramarital affair with a coworker. Along with their son Masaru, the couple leads a rather bleak existence with not much money to spare, and in a house that is in a sad state of affairs. Yet, even though her life seems rather hopeless, Sadako appears to take little notice in continuing with her daily affairs, and eventually transforms from helpless housewife to an empowered woman who rises above her fate.

At the start of the film, we are presented with a number of freeze frames which introduce crucial parts of the setting and give us an idea of the conditions in which the main characters live. We immediately see that their house is shabby and rather oppressive. The focus rests briefly on two signs hanging in the house – one that reads “Obey family rules,” and another that reads “Without rules, the house won’t function.” This gives us an accurate picture of what is to come for Sadako, as we are soon given a glimpse into her rather bleak past as a servant to the Takahashi family. Though she has never done anything to warrant it, being the granddaughter of a Takahashi man’s former mistress, Sadako has a bad reputation. In addition, her grandmother is believed to have cursed the household, which is something that Sadako must constantly repent for. Things only continue to get worse for our heroine as we are introduced to Hiraoko (Tsuyuguchi Shigeru), who breaks into the Takahashi home and rapes her. Following the rape Sadako is deeply ashamed; she decides that she must kill herself, but repeatedly backs out of it due to the love she has for her son. Instead she bears the burden of her secret, despite the fact that Hiraoko proves somewhat of a nuisance as he returns repeatedly to declare his love for her. Following Sadako’s encounter with Hiraoko, we are introduced to Riichi’s mistress, Masuda Yoshiko (Kusonoki Yuko), a bookish woman who is utterly obsessed with Riichi and wishes to become his wife. Throughout the film she stalks Sadako, attempting to catch her in the act of adultery in order to better convince Riichi to leave his wife.

The film centers largely on the struggles that Sadako faces; being overweight and mentally slow does nothing to help her, and being from a lower class also does not help. To further add insult to injury, in the eyes of the Takahashi family register, she is neither Riichi’s wife nor Masaru’s mother. Along with her situation as a marginalized person, the problem of the family register is another hurdle that she must overcome. Sadako’s struggle is portrayed metaphorically through Masaru’s two pet mice. At the beginning of the film, the mice are shown running furiously on their wheel, tripping over each other and obviously getting nowhere. This is indicative of Sadako’s life in general. Despite the fact that she keeps moving forward, she is held back by the hamster wheel that is her life, thus her circumstances never truly improve. She does not appear to have much to live for, yet despite having such bleak prospects, she eventually triumphs over her circumstances little by little. This can also be seen with the mice, albeit rather morbidly so, as the smaller of the two kills and eats its larger companion. Yet, despite this morbidity, it sends a message to the viewer – that is, not to doubt the strength of the “underdog,” because they too can triumph when one least expects it. In this case, the small mouse can be seen as representative of Sadako who, despite her oppression, manages to take control of her situation.

Another strong presence in the film is female sexuality. Despite her lowly status and being constantly degraded, at the same time, Sadako is desired sexually by multiple men in her life. Though he is rather unattached emotionally and also has a mistress, Riichi continues to sleep with her; her rapist, Hiraoko, also comes to desire her sexually, and justifies his raping her as an act of love. Even a random guest attending Riichi’s father’s funeral makes a remark about Sadako and how desirable she is, despite the fact that she is rather “unconventional” in terms of looks. Though Sadako initially seems rather demure and traditional in regards to sex, it soon becomes evident that things are not as they seem. Even when she is being raped, a traumatic experience for most, Sadako appears to enjoy it, and in a bizarre turn of events, eventually reciprocates Hiraoko’s advances. Sex clearly empowers her, likely because it is one of the only things that allow her to rise above her oppression.

Though rather lengthy and dark, Intentions of Murder is a film that invites deeper analysis and consideration of its themes. Because of this, important plot details are easily missed, so it is definitely one that should be watched at least a couple of times for the sake of deeper understanding. Though scenes of sexuality and partial nudity are present, they are done so tastefully and in a way that contributes to the overall plot and greater picture that the work sets forth. In the words of Donald Richie, it is a film that challenges the “official” face of Japan and delves deeply into issues that are more “real”– in this case, female subjugation and sexuality.

Categories
action comedy drama, melodrama jidai-geki

“The Hidden Fortress”: Hidden Messages, Secrets and Fortunes

The Hidden Fortress (Kakushi toride no san akunin, 1958) is a jidai-geki directed by Kurosawa Akira. It stars Mifune Toshirō as General Rokurota Makabe and Uehara Misa as Princess Yuki. Set in war-torn feudal Japan, the film follows the pair’s long and dangerous journey across enemy territory. Along the way, they are accompanied by two peasants, Tahei (Chiaki Minoru) and Matashichi (Fujiwara Kamatari). Since its release, the movie has become an inspiration for many directors, including George Lucas who has acknowledged its influence on his worldwide phenomenon, Star Wars.

At the start of the film, the battle between Yamana and Akizuki has just ended, with Yamana emerging as the victor. Princess Yuki is forced to flee to the neighbouring territory of Hayakawa, with whom the defeated Akizuki faction has secured a deal. She must also smuggle out her family’s remaining fortune (gold pieces carefully hidden within sticks of wood), which will enable her to reclaim her land and rebuild Akizuki in the future. Just before setting off for Hayakawa, the travellers take refuge at a hidden fortress. While abiding for time, they formulate an escape plan. Yet even with their best efforts, the journey is far from easy, and the group repeatedly encounters multiple setbacks. Not only do they have to avoid being discovered by Yamana soldiers, but the princess and the general have an additional problem – Tahei and Matashichi do not have the best intentions. Greedy and shallow, they will take any opportunity to run off with the Princess’ gold.

The powerful storytelling of The Hidden Fortress is only one element Kurosawa wanted to display through the movie. He also addresses the issue of class distinctions, which is a subtle but prevalent theme throughout. The social commentary is most apparent through the decisions and actions of the characters. Princess Yuki and General Makabe are educated and of high social status. Their behaviour is refined, their presence commands attention, and they make rational, thought-out decisions. In contrast, Tahei and Matashichi are unintelligent and immature. Their actions indicate little pride, and at times they appear barbaric, as seen when they fight each another for the gold. Additionally, there is one scene where class distinctions become very obvious. It is when Princess Yuki sheds her high status persona and disguises herself as a mute peasant girl. Because her manner of speech is harsh and authoritative, she can be easily identified by the enemy as the Princess of Akizuki. To decrease the likelihood of being captured, she promises General Makabe that she will keep silent until they reach Hayakawa. This issue of class distinctions would have been very obvious to the viewers at the time of the movie’s release.

Aside from creating an interesting plot, the events of the film allow for character development to occur, with the most significant change occurring in Princess Yuki. Having been raised in the castle, her best interests were always placed first. This likely led her to develop the proud and stubborn personality she exhibits at the start of the film. The Princess’ limited experience in the outside world may have also contributed to the spoiled and demanding behaviour that she occasionally displays. However, despite her privileged upbringing, she understands the importance of her position and does not neglect her responsibilities to her country and to her people. As the journey continues, Princess Yuki begins to see the terrible effects of the war. It has brought bloodshed and despair, and many people are left with nothing. Akizuki women are also being bought and sold for the pleasures of men. When the Princess overhears Yamana men criticizing an inadequate slave girl at the inn where she is staying, she demands General Makabe to buy her from the innkeeper. He objects, but she is resolute. She may have no choice but to remain silent during their journey, but “[he] cannot make [her] heart mute too.” Living like a peasant awakens in her a strong resolve to protect her people and to take back her country. At the end of the film, she expresses to the General that she is grateful for the experience she would not have had otherwise, had she been living in the castle: “I saw people as they really are… I saw their beauty and their ugliness with my own eyes.”

Kurosawa’s The Hidden Fortress is a captivating adventure story about the perilous journey of a princess and her general as they escape from enemy territory. Filled with action and humour, audiences will find little to be unsatisfied with. But beneath this basic exterior lies a story imbued with many lessons and messages. It is a story about courage and morality, about change, and ultimately about the sacrifices people make for change to occur. Highly enjoyable and thought-provoking, this movie can be appreciated by anyone, and it would serve as an excellent introduction to those interested in Japanese cinema.

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new cinema / new wave cinema

Crime, Punishment and Bungling Officials: Ôshima’s “Death by Hanging”

Ôshima Nagisa’s 1968 new wave film Death by Hanging (Kôshikei) is a surreal and dark examination of guilt, morality, and prejudice that is also likely to be the most entertaining film about capital punishment that one will ever see. Witty dialogue and creative use of mise en scène combine to form a work that is at once bizarre and accessible.

The film opens with a series of titles first presenting the results of public opinion polls showing large degrees of support for the death penalty among the Japanese public. The titles then ask if any among the audience who support the institution have ever seen the inside of an execution chamber. These titles do provide the non-Japanese viewer with some context, but overall they come across as too didactic and blunt; they are one of the few flaws in the film. The first scene is a documentary style view of an execution chamber and the act which occurs within, complete with voice-over narration. Once the prisoner has been hanged, the film truly begins. The officials discover that the condemned man, R., a zainichi Korean sentenced for the rape and murder of two young women, has failed to properly expire; his heart continues to beat. R. has reverted to a childlike, dissociative state and does not even recognize himself as being R. The officials determine that they cannot legally execute a person in such a condition, and they thus decide to conduct a series of absurd reenactments of R.’s life and crimes in order to jog his memory before all involved descend into hallucinatory madness.

The primary tone throughout the film is that of dark satire. Through the dialogue, we learn that the older officials are merely continuing their work of killing with the legitimizing power of the state that they began decades ago during the war. These senior officials speak in an informal colloquial style that contrasts with the servile speech of the junior officials. The situation that emerges from the officials’ dialogue is at first something like Kafka in reverse. In a Kafka novel, the bureaucratic rules and twisted logic of the officials would serve to trap R. in an impossible to escape situation. Ôshima instead creates a scenario where these serve to trap the officials themselves in a situation where they cannot fulfill their duties in executing the prisoner.

The camera work, editing, and overall mise en scène further heighten the dark humor of the predicament. Ôshima works in extremely long takes with minimal cutting, yet he maintains the same pacing effects as cutting through moving characters and camera around constantly, using human characters as props in his spartan settings and constantly forming new tableaus. There is an unforgettable shot where the camera moves into position to be framed on either side by two young officials standing ramrod straight. A comatose R. is slumped in a chair to the left in the foreground, staring blankly, while two other officials are comically reenacting a rape in the background behind R. The negative space left between the three characters left of center and the official at the far right edge of the frame unbalances the shot and adds to the absurdity of the situation.

Other than being an indictment of capital punishment, Death by Hanging also explores themes relating to being. The name R. is on one hand short for Ri, the surname of a young Korean man executed in the 1950s, on whose case Ôshima based the film. However, it also happens that the letter “R” is pronounced “aru” in Japanese, the same as a verb meaning “to exist” or “to be.” While it is not clear in the English subtitles, the phrase “being R.” (“Aru de aru”) is repeated throughout the film, making the intended connection apparent. Starting out in a dissociative state, R. is a blank slate with no sense of being anything. The officials must reconstruct R. through their reenactments, which, besides being absurd, are filled with racist caricatures of Koreans. The officials constantly refer to R.’s nationality, even though it is on the face of it immaterial to R.’s crimes and even though R. is only Korean because Japanese law does not automatically grant citizenship to people born on its soil without Japanese parents. R. does not even possess at the beginning the concept of nationality (“What is a nation?””What is Korean?”). The officials, some of whom ironically fought in a war that was in part over whether a Korean nation would even exist, are forced to give clumsy explanations as to why R. is a Korean and as to what a nation is. Later in the film, a more lucid R. negates entirely the concrete existence of nations (“I do not want to be killed by an abstraction.”). However, the R. that initially emerges from the officials’ reconstruction is an ardent Korean nationalist who paints his crimes as an act of revenge against the Japanese people for the wrongs suffered by his countrymen in the war and since. The R. that raped and murdered two girls before the start of the film can thus be seen as similarly having been constructed by Japanese society, much as the African American protagonist of Richard Wright’s novel Native Son was constructed as a murderer by American society.

There is a transgressive air flowing throughout the film. At several points corpses are visible draped in the Japanese hinomaru flag, a recurring motif in the latter half of the film. It might then be hard to imagine many of Ôshima’s initial viewers being swayed by messages in the film if they were not already receptive to them. Indeed, capital punishment remains the law in Japan, and public support is still high. Nonetheless, Death by Hanging is a darkly humorous and thought-provoking work that is well worth a look.

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