Month: October 2010

Categories
drama, melodrama gendai-geki

Women of the Night

Mizoguchi Kenji, one of the great directors active during the golden age of Japanese cinema, directed a film entitled “Women of the night (Yoru no onnatachi).” This movie was released in 1948 which was right after World War II. The two main characters, Fusako and Natsuko, were played by Kinuyo Tanaka and Sanae Takasuki. Kinuyo Tanaka had worked frequently with Mizoguchi as a female lead actor in his films. Furthermore, she was the second female director in Japanese cinema history. The genre of this film is drama, or gendai-geki. It has a certain love line amongst the characters consisting of a love triangle between Fusako, Mr. Kuriyama, and Natsuko. The background setting of this film involves people suffering because of war and postwar effects that come later in the story. It mirrors the same setting of the period when the movie was filmed.

The first scene of the movie starts by showing Fusako selling her clothes to a dry goods merchant to earn money for her child’s hospital fees and food. She has lost her husband after he left for the war and her baby suffers from tuberculosis. Because of this, she has to look after her child and her husband’s family. The merchant offers Fusako a chance to become a prostitute but Fusako is shocked by the notion and immediately rejects the merchant’s offer. After hearing about her husband’s death and the death of her baby, she asks for help from Mr. Kuriyama, the owner of her husband’s company. Mr. Kuriyama accepts her as his financial assistant and they become lovers.

Fusako runs into Natsuko, her sister, estranged due to the disruption of war. Natsuko, a dancing hostess, asks if she can live with Fusako and Fusako accepts the offer. Fusako accidentally discovers that her sister and Mr. Kuriyama had slept together. Natsuko tells her sister that she was raped during the war and asks for understanding. However, Fusako runs away and becomes a prostitute through a deep antipathy toward men. Meanwhile, Kumiko, who is the sister-in-law of Fusako, runs away from her home and gets raped by a friendly boy who offers to show her his room. The boy takes her money and Kumiko, who now has no other options, also becomes a prostitute. Natsuko hears the news that her sister has become a prostitute and goes out to find her. The two sisters come across in a hospital which is a place where police routinely send arrested prostitutes to get examined for diseases. Natsuko turns out to pregnant and also has syphilis. After seeing Fusako, she starts to think about becoming a straight woman and having a job at the women’s care center.

There are two interesting points throughout this film. The transformation in Fusako’s customs compared to her change of thought and behaviour. Another point is the innovation of the women’s behaviour. When Fusako’s subjectivity is with the traditional notion of Japanese women sacrificing everything for one’s husband and child, her clothes are neat and simple. Afterward, when Fusako became a financial assistant, she wears a formal Kimono. Comparing these two styles of clothing, Fusako first wears clothes that emphasize her wrists and mainly show her collarbone. It is a fitting juxtaposition for expressing Fusako’s purity and cleanliness by covering her body with clothing. Conversely, Fusako later reveals her body as one which is losing chastity and subjectivity. Natsuko, on the other hand, wears more formal clothes as she becomes the lover of Mr. Kuriyama. Kumiko also unbuttons more of her shirt around the neck after she becomes a prostitute.

Fusako, also exhibits a change in her behaviour. She bends herself around a lot when she has the role of a mother. She cares about what others think of her and tries to be invisible. In the scene when her husband and her baby die, she panics and asks for help. It looks as though Fusako cannot do anything by herself other than be quiet and just sacrifice herself for her family. She also bends herself when she works as an assistant but the difference there is that she has confidence in her attitude. She knows how to do her job and has an opinion. Even when she knows that the cops are coming to search the company, she handles the situation boldly by taking the compromising material to her home. However, she does not bend at all when she becomes a prostitute. It seems as she does not feel any shame about herself and has given up her proper life as a human being. She laughs and acts in a crude manner.

There is indeed some excessive violence in this film (e.g., the beating of the girls) but there is a different meaning inside of it. Also, although genre of this film is that of drama the story does not solely concentrate on the love story between the main characters. This film not only shows the change of one woman’s life but also the looming female movement in Japanese culture.

Categories
drama, melodrama

Akasen Chitai: Street of Shame

The film Akasen chitai (Street of Shame), directed by Mizoguchi Kenji in 1956, is also known as his very last film in his lifetime contribution to the Japanese film industry. As a filmmaker, Mizoguchi established himself as a “feminist” director who raised issues of women into film production and gave voices to their originally unspeakable misery. His other popular films such as The Sisters of Gion, Osaka Elegy, and Women of the Night all concern the abiding theme of the status quo of women in society. Street of Shame, classified as drama or melodrama, is also unsurprisingly a film about women, illustrating their hardship and submissive status within the larger social context. The film involves no well-known actors, but this feature serves to genuinely present and reveal the practical lives of prostitutes and connect viewers to their problems as if it is a phenomenon of the society as a whole. In relation to raising the social issue of prostitution and drawing it to the gender oppression, Street of Shame is considered the catalyst film that surged up the prohibiting law of prostitution business.

The film takes place in the red light district of Yoshiwara, within a brothel called “Dreamland” during the post-war period. Mizoguchi utilizes the bitter lives of five prostitutes during the context of the anxious socioeconomic atmosphere to humanize these seemly immoral occupations, revealing their heartbreaking stories. In the film, the name of the brothel (Dreamland) contradicts the pitiful lives of the women working there. The brothel is a place “where flowery courtesans, romantic and proud gloried in years gone by,” giving the viewers a sense of discrepancy when they are led to the center of the women’s struggle, falsifying viewers’ expectation and provoking viewers’ sympathy for each character. The problems of the five women are revealed in a sequential manner as their lives intersect in the brothel they work in, making them indifferent to one another in the process of striving for freedom as well as striving to provide. Yumeko is a widow who engages in the business to be able to raise her son; Hanae strives to earn the expense for her unemployed husband’s medicine and the raising of her baby son; Yasumi spent her life to earn enough money to free her father from jail beginning at a very young age; Mickey enters the business from a wealthy yet father-dominated tyrannical family; and Yorie makes her way back to this industry to free herself from a shattered marriage that contradicted her ideals and aspirations. The cycle of individual disappointment and physical exploitation perpetuates itself as the women strive to survive and look forward. Regardless of the choiceless situation, Dreamland, in another sense, serves as a shelter for their broken dreams and as an opportunity for them to dream, yet even this is denied by society.

I personally find the background music of the film, by Toshiro Mayuzumi, to be quite irritating in its tone as well as its melody throughout the film, as it gave me goosebumps every time it was turned on. The musical effects accompany the unfolding of the characters’ stories, creating a nerve-shivering, mournful, and depressive atmosphere that seems to encompass all the aspects of the film. The music puts the viewers into a mode of ongoing tension, intensifying the pathetic situation each character confronts. In relation to the theme, the music also serves as a resemblance of reality that reflects the anxiety of the socio-economic tension as well as the conflicting minds of the women. Moreover, the music’s mournful tone also reflects the inevitable fate of women and their strong characters – feeling shattered yet resilient.

The tracking shot is the most well-known cinematic shot most often utilized by Mizoguchi among the many films he had produced; however, this camera technique is only mildly applied in Street of Shame. I will discuss the use of lengthy single take and closeup shots used in this film. Most of the scenes are presented in a pausing manner, such that every scene is taken with single take and an unmoving camera shot that provide viewers with great detail and often leaves enough time to allow free interpretation and reflection from the viewers simultaneously as the story proceeds. Another cinematic shot is the deep-focused closeup shot, a technique that moves steadily closer to each protagonist; it is used every time the various causes of the individual character’s downfall into the prostitution business are revealed. Such as the scene when Yasumi collects the handful of money she earned throughout the years as she bursts into tears crying out, “my life was ruined for only two-hundred thousand yen, I hate to be poor!” The camera moves closer to focus on her emotional expression from a distance to bring her deeply-rooted hatred into the centre of focus, drawing viewers closer to her personal pain.

Overall, the film concerns the issue of power relations, status, and suffering as the female protagonists in the film strive to achieve a life they have always aspired to in a world where money and power rule. Mizoguchi uses ordinary actors, conveying that it is not merely a personal issue, but a pragmatic social issue, drawing the viewers into reflecting upon the issue that they are also responsible. The choice of background music effect together with the use of lengthy single take and closeup shots elevates the emotional struggle and conflict to a higher level, drawing viewers into the sentimental and heartfelt problems women face. There are, however, scenes of violence, but they are very few and of mild intensity, thus suitable for most viewers. Other than that, the film is short, lacks dramatic climax, but unfolds without any surprise from beginning to end making the storyline somewhat dull and tedious, focusing on social issues instead of personal drama.

Categories
action yakuza

Blood, Bullets, and Bodies: The True Colours of Tokyo Drifter

Suzuki Seijun’s 1966 film Tokyo Drifter (Tôkyô nagaremono) can best be described as a pop art variation to the yakuza (gangster) film. The eighty-six minute feature uses splashy colours, avant-garde style and comic-book-coolness to tell the ruthless story of ex-Kurata mob member, Tetsu ‘Phoenix’ Hondo (Tetsuya Watari). While Tetsu can easily be deemed a reckless young killer, it is his honour and loyalty to his own ethics that sets him apart from the average trigger-pulling gangster. In other words, he kills to survive. Not only has his honour to the Kurata boss (Ryugi Kits) turned him into the mob’s (soon to be former) right-hand man, it has also guided him to abandon the profession altogether – a decision that leads him down a path with no escape. The only time Tetsu’s honour is tested is when faced by his love interest and local lounge singer, Chiharu (Matsubara Chieko). Without the option of going back on his decision, Tetsu has no choice but to kill or risk being killed (even if it means abandoning love). This cutthroat attitude mirrors the choices of Suzuki himself who endured endless backlash from the studios for taking his films “too far” and not adhering to their requests to alter what they saw as inappropriate and explicit content. Suzuki was eventually blacklisted from the studios and labeled an outcast much in the same way as his protagonist in Tokyo Drifter. With his own cinematic style working to glorify an otherwise standard yakuza film, Suzuki manages to tell a tale of betrayal and survival by appealing to the senses of his viewers.

At the beginning of the film Tetsu reveals his decision to retire from organized crime. As expected, Tetsu cannot simply walk away unscathed. With unsettled debts and ongoing feuds with the Yoshii rival gang, Tetsu soon finds himself a wanted man. While leading his enemies on a wild goose chase across Japan, the commonly described “James Bond” of Japanese cinema leaves nothing behind but bullets and bodies. While on foot, Tetsu learns that his once-honoured boss has turned against him. In other words, he must now dodge bullets from all angles. As Tetsu makes his way from sketchy nightclubs, to the northern mountains and eventually back to Tokyo, he enters into a series of jaw-dropping shootouts and bloodbaths. While Tetsu ventures off on his one-man journey, his relationship with Chiharu deflates. While the pretty young singer awaits the safe return of her lover, she continues her work at Kurata’s lounge in Tokyo and sings as if haunted by her desire to be loved by a drifter.

After watching the first few scenes of Tokyo Drifter the viewer will see that the plotline is noticeably messy. In true 1960s Warhol fashion, the meaning of the film is quickly rendered meaningless as it cannot compare to the psychedelic imagery and vivid colouring that dominates the screen. For example, the opening scene (which is shot in black and white) contains random bursts of colour such as a man walking by in a bright yellow suit and a cherry red gun lying on the ground. While we should be focusing our attention on the introduction to characters, Suzuki draws the eye elsewhere. Suzuki later uses colour to highlight the brutality of death by allowing rich human blood to pour all over a pure white set. These stylistic enhancements lend the film an unrealistic, cartoon-like quality and are constantly distracting viewers from the redundant plotline. The excessive use of manipulated colouring is still widely used today and can be seen in films such as Sin City (2005, Frank Miller) and Watchmen (2009, Zach Snyder). This manipulation allows the film’s overall style to parallel or even surpass the importance of the plot. With clear influences from the German Expressionist and French New Wave periods, Suzuki has managed to turn a film into an art exhibition.

Another way in which Tokyo Drifter manages to distract viewers from the plot is through the use of diegetic music. In many scenes we get to hear Chiharu sing while performing her act on stage. Suzuki seems to be paying homage to the Hollywood musical in these scenes as he chooses to have Chiharu express her sadness through song much like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz (1939, Victor Fleming). This song underscores the theme of the film by describing Tetsu’s journey through lyrics: “Where is he that vagabond,””Always drifting,” and “oh, that drifter from Tokyo.” The song is later intertextually echoed through the whistling of Tetsu as he makes his way through a northern snow storm. The result is a chilling call and response from a sad lover to a lonely drifter.

Suzuki Seijun”s Tokyo Drifter is a thoroughly enjoyable experience that, although not for everyone (due to the film’s graphic fighting and violence), has made its colourful mark in cinematic history. Suzuki’s similarities to his protagonist make the film all the more interesting as both character and filmmaker are standing up for their own ethics and fighting for their beliefs. The film has influenced the likes of many modern-day filmmakers including Quentin Tarantino and his widely popular Kill Bill (2003/2004) series. Although the artistry is commendable, we are forced to wonder if the film’s bold style is holding up the plot or if the plot is bringing down the style. Regardless, Tokyo Drifter is a wild rollercoaster ride for the eyes and a vividly refreshing addition to the yakuza genre.

Categories
jidai-geki

Yojimbo

Yojimbo, or Bodyguard in English, is a 1961 film directed by Akira Kurosawa. This film is of the jidai-geki or period piece genre, and stars Toshiro Mifune as the titular character, a wandering swordsman without a name. The film starts with a shot of the swordsman walking down a path and then choosing a random direction by throwing a stick up in the air and following the path it points at. The story starts with the swordsman witnessing a family quarrel between a father and son, where the son wants to abandon his life as a farmer to gamble, which is a decision the father is clearly opposed to. Learning of the corruption and misdemeanour of gamblers in the nearby town from the father, the swordsman visits it. He finds out about the existence and gets some information about the two factions of gamblers in town, one led by a man named Ushitora and his brothers, and the other led by Seibei, from a grumpy restaurant owner. He proves his worth to Seibei, made a deal with him to become a bodyguard, and came up with the alias Sanjuro Kuwabatake from seeing a 30 year old mulberry field. From here on, we see Sanjuro play the two factions against each other in his effort to clean up the town from its corruption.

One of the major themes in the movie is the concept of safety versus recklessness. The film portrays safety as cowardly, as shown most prominently by constable Hansuke, who sucks up to both factions and Sanjuro to avoid getting hurt, and by master Homma, who worked for Seibei but ran away when Seibei announced they were going to attack Ushitora’s group. Safety is also shown as unprofitable, which is why the farmer’s son left his father in the beginning of the movie. Recklessness is shown by the actions of the various gamblers and convicts who work for the two factions; by adhering to a life of crime, they gamble their lives and money, as well as the farmer’s son. Both safety and recklessness are looked down upon; safety is looked down upon by the gamblers, and recklessness is looked down upon by their opposers: the farmers, and the restaurant owner. Interestingly, we see Sanjuro acting the smart middle ground between the two ideas, and looks down upon both extremes; he is visibly angered at the cowardly man whose wife was taken away by Ushitora’s partner Tokuemon and simply ignores Hansuke, but he also shows his distaste towards the farmer’s son’s actions, and even uses the gamblers’ aggressiveness to his advantage in his plans. The restaurant owner sees all of Sanjuro’s actions as reckless and dangerous, but Sanjuro was able to calmly explain the reasons for his actions to him, showing that Sanjuro is a calculating individual that does not go into either extreme.

The clothing worn by the characters is a clear indicator of their status. Lowly thugs and lower ranking family members of the factions leaders wear rugged, dirty, and simple patterned clothes. They are usually square or stripe-patterned, and look simple and cheap compared to the other characters. Sanjuro and master Homma and higher-ranking people such as Ushitora and Seibei wear hakama pants while the lower ranking male characters only wear shorts. Sanjuro and Homma wear a similar, non- patterned top with crests on the back of their neck and elbows to show that they are master swordsmen. Ushitora wears a more elaborate pattern jacket over his normal top. However, Seibei, who is another faction leader, wears a striped pattern like the lower ranking members, perhaps to show that he is in the weaker and less important faction. We see this from the smaller amount of screen time and characterization he, his wife, and his faction has compared to Ushitora’s faction, whose two younger brothers are major antagonists to Sanjuro, as well as the fact that Sanjuro gets in more trouble with Ushitora’s faction than with Seibei’s faction.

This was the first samurai film I’ve watched and I was very impressed, especially by Sanjuro’s manly characterization and his trickster-like mischievousness and cleverness. The other characters are given enough development to add importance to their interactions with Sanjuro, who Kurosawa made clear should be the center of attention at all times when he is on screen by the camerawork, where he is located in the scene, and by Mifune’s strong acting. There’s some offensive language, but that is the biggest concern for the faint of heart, as the combat scenes are bloodless.

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