Review - The Men Who Tread on the Tiger's Tail

April 11, 2013

The Men Who Tread On The Tiger’s Tail – Japan, 1945

I first watched Akira Kurosawa’s fourth film, The Men Who Tread on the Tiger’s Tail a few years ago, and to say I was utterly confused would be an understatement. I could tell that there was a group of important men, perhaps samurai, walking up a mountain with a humorous character. At least, I assumed that he was there for comic relief. I honestly had no way of knowing for sure. At some point, there was a long scene in which these characters appeared in front of someone important, and someone who I interpreted as the leader of the group did a great deal of talking. What he, as well as the other characters, said was a mystery, though. Watching the film a second time was a revelation. Suddenly, the plot was understandable, the fool’s jokes were funny, and the drama was crystal clear. Good subtitles can do this for a fellow.

The Men Who Tread on the Tiger’s Tail is a relatively short film made in 1945, but not released in Japan until 1952. The film has a few significant firsts for Kurosawa. The film marked the first time that Kurosawa made a film involving samurai, and it is clear from the way Kurosawa portrays them that he holds them in high regard, especially more senior samurai. It was also the first Kurosawa film that was based on a classic source, this one being a tale that was first popularized in Japan’s Noh and Kabuki theaters, and it was the first time Kurosawa ran into trouble with his version of Japanese cinema. The reason for this is that for his adaptation of this popular tale, Kurosawa added an entirely original character, the Porter. The character is played by Kenichi Enomot, who had made a name for himself as a comic actor in the 1930’s. The presence of a comic fool in the film led to charges that Kurosawa was being disrespectful of history, and this led to the seven-year delay between the film’s completion and its theatrical release. I can only assume that audiences in 1952 felt that the wait had been worth it.

The film is about a group of six samurai and Lord Yoshitsune, whom the samurai have sworn to protect. These men’s backstory is rather convoluted, involving war and family betrayal. Because of this, the part of the story involving Lord Yoshisune and his brother, Lord Yoritomo, is told twice, first before the film’s opening credits and second in great detail by the porter. Normally, a film tries to avoid telling the same details twice, but here it is a rather welcome addition. The porter, as all similarly-written characters do, eventually wears out his welcome with the samurai, but like this kind of character in later Kurosawa films, this one too will play an integral part in the success or failure of the samurai’s mission.  

Many of Kurosawa’s film include a senior character whose view of the world and his present situation is more mature than that of the other characters. And in this film, that role can be found in Benkei, Lord Yoshitsune’s wise and experienced bodyguard. It is this character that soothes the tempers of the other samurai, whose solutions to problems almost invariably involve them drawing their swords and fighting their way through enemy blockades. Benkei astutely reminds them that there are many barriers standing in their way and that they would only have the element of surprise once. Therefore, they must fight only as a last resort, and they must somehow outsmart their enemies using their heads.

Benkei is played by Denjiro Okochi, and one of the interesting aspects of his performance in this film is the way he often sounds as if he is performing in a Noh play. This gives his delivery a certain degree of authority, and it is easy to see why those that are looking for Lord Yoshitsune fall under his spell. Kurosawa assists Okochi by using haunting Noh music extensively throughout the film, and a female chorus, much like the chorus of a Greek play would, is employed to fill in crucial details that take place in between scenes. The effect is striking. Okochi would go on to appear in Kurosawa’s excellent post-war film No Regrets for our Youth, and by the time of his death in 1962 at just 64 years of age, he had appeared in over one hundred films.

There comes a point in most samurai films when the swords are drawn and the fighting commences. However, in this film, Kurosawa avoids this. Instead, the drama comes from Benkei trying to avoid physical conflict. After all, everywhere these eight characters go, the deck is stacked against them. This makes each of their movements very suspenseful, and a scene involving Benkei and a man who could easily order their deaths is particularly tense and involving.

There are two other interesting tidbits related to this film. The first is that Kurosawa had originally planned on making an entirely different one. However, the film he envisioned making and the budget his studio offered him didn’t match, so he quickly churned out the script for The Men Who Tread on the Tiger’s Tail - in one day, the legend goes. The second involves a visit by British filmmaker Michael Powell. Upon seeing the film, he is said to have responded simply, “It’s wonderful.” Who am I to argue? It is indeed. (on DVD as part of Eclipse’s The First Films of Akira Kurosawa box set)

3 and a half stars

*The Men Who Tread on the Tiger’s Tail is in Japanese with English subtitles.

*Many of the historical references used in this review are based on notes by Stephen Prince and the good folks at IMDB. My gratitude goes out to them.  

Review – Dodes’Ka-den

April 12, 2009

Dodes’Ka-den – Japan, 1970

Akira Kurosawa's 1970 film Dodes’Ka-den begins with a youth man named Rokkuchan (Yoshitaka Zushi) preparing for the long work day ahead of him. Before leaving the house, he joins his mother (Kin Sugai) in front of an altar and begins reciting Buddhist prayers with her. I’m not an expert in Buddhism, but to me, the way these two characters were reciting them seemed angry or tense. Perhaps that is what causes the woman’s son to stop chanting and make an individual prayer to Buddha. His prayer is for his mother to be smarter, a seemingly odd request. He clearly does not consider his mother’s negative emotions to be warranted. A moment later, he announces that he has to go, that he has eight rounds to do. He walks to the door, fastens an imaginary sword or wand to his belt, put on an invisible hat, and bids his mother farewell. He then thoroughly inspects and enters an equally unseen trolley and begins walking along a thin unpaved road, reciting the phrase dodes’ka-den over and over again.

Rokkuchan is just one of the inhabitants of a slum in Japan, many of whose residents have withdrawn from society, fallen on hard times, or become reliant upon alcohol to get through life. The homes that the slum’s residents live in are rusty and run-down, and the paint is fading from many of them. In the center of the slum is a single water fountain, around which several ladies meet every morning and gossip about their neighbors. They rarely have anything nice or sympathetic to say, not even about people in the most unfortunate of situations. Much of their gossip has to do with two women, Tatsu (Hideko Okiyama) and Yoshie (Jitsuko Yoshimura), who are both married to fairly likeable people. In fact, we sense that their marriages would be the stuff of fairy tales if only their husbands weren’t squandering their wages on sake and whiskey. The posse of gossipers also has a problem with Mr. Shima (Junzaburo Ban), a kind, good-natured man whose only fault is that he has a rather serious tick. The ladies like him for the most part; it is his wife (Kiyoke Tange) that they can’t stand, a sentiment that Mrs. Shima’s rather rude, aggressive personality does little to change. And then there’s the mysterious Mr. Hei (Hiroshi Atutagawa) who padlocks his house every time he leaves and whose eyes are described as resembling death itself. The arrival of his long-absent wife Ocho (Tomoko Naraoka) only provides more fodder for the rumor mill. Also inhabiting the slums are a homeless father (Noboru Mitani) and son (Hiroyuki Kawase), a sleazy, lazy man who makes his wife’s niece do all the work around the house while his wife is in the hospital, and Mr. Tanba (Atushi Watanabe), an older man who in another time would have been a community leader or government representative.

To watch Mr. Tanba is to see one of the purest examples of grace and understanding in film, for while others fixate on a person’s faults and peculiarities, Mr. Tanba is understanding and accepting of the plights that people find themselves in, both real and imaginary. When he interacts with Rokkuchan, he speaks to him as if Rokkuchan is indeed a trolley operator. When he sees an intoxicated man violently swinging a sword, he approaches him and offers to switch places with him, reasoning that the man’s arm must be tired. Later, in one of the film’s more emotional scenes, a man confides in Mr. Tanba that he wishes to end his life. Mr. Tanba does not attempt to explain the value of living or criticize the man for having such thoughts. He just listens to the man’s tragic tale and offers him a secret, quick drink that will supposedly end the man’s suffering. Then he gently elicits a reason that the man might want to live. Mr. Tanba’s counterpart is the beggar’s son. Homeless and given the responsibility of begging for food for him and his dad, he never blames or ridicules the defeated man that is his father. His father, like Rokkuchan, has withdrawn from both society and reality. His conversations with his son often involve the construction of an imaginary house, which he is building in his mind piece by piece and seems to believe his son capable of seeing. His son does nothing to dispel this idea.

The slum in Dodes’Ka-den is a combination of development and poverty, of conscientious people and those can be particularly cruel, of those who delight in the rumor and those who seek to discover the truth. However, what I will remember most from it is its sweet, sometimes tragic tales of love – the man raising five children that are not his own, the young girl hoping to be rescued by the kind sake deliverer, and the betrayed husband unable to completely forgive the woman who wronged him. These stories do not all end happily, but they are equally powerful. After watching the film, I couldn’t help but recall the words of the beggar: “We mustn’t cling to our culture and characteristics if we become weak and lose endurance as a result.” The beggar had been talking about houses, but his sentiments could easily be referring to the supposed cultural importance of drinking after work, spreading rumors and innuendoes, and doing one’s utmost to preserve one’s honor despite the personal toll that doing so often exacts. In that one line, Kurosawa has provided us with a lens through which to view the events that unfold in the film. Perhaps people have to be able to let go of what they think they are in order to truly reach their potential in life and love. (on DVD from the Criterion Collection)

3 and a half stars

*Dodes'Ka-den is in Japanese with English subtitles.

Review – No Regrets for Our Youth

March 13, 2009

No Regrets for Our Youth – Japan, 1946

As Ruykichi Noge (Susumu Fujita) and his university classmate Itokawa (Akitake Kono) each reach out to help Yukie Yagihara (Setsuko Hara) cross a moderately shallow river, the difference between them could not be made any more apparent. Itokawa plays it cautious, extending his arm out only part way and making it clear that it is Yukie who must make the final effort to reach his hand. Perhaps he is reticent to make physical contact with her when so many of their friends are nearby; perhaps he sees this as being respectful of Yukie, of following time-honored traditions regarding physical proximity and personal contact. Whatever the reason, we sense right away that Itokawa is a cautious man, one who waits for permission to act, rather than giving in to his impulses. Noge could not be more different. As Yukie awkwardly stands there trying to decide which hand to accept assistance from, it becomes clear that she cannot make a decision, so Noge makes it for her. Forsaking the university uniform and the immaculate condition of his dress shoes, he steps into the water, walks toward Yukie, and before she can say a word to stop him, picks her up and carries her to the bank of the river, in much the same way as a husband would carry his bride into their home on their wedding day. And in that glorious gesture, we know all we need to know about Noge.

Yet it is a dangerous time to be that kind of person, for it is 1933, the year when their beloved school Kyoto University, what they call the “cradle of freedom,” erupts in protest over the growing militarism that is sweeping the country. Those whose teachings and writing are considered to be espousing the wrong ideology soon find themselves expelled. One such professor is Yukie’s father, Professor Yagihara. While he and his colleagues map out a careful, step-by-step approach to achieving his reinstatement, Noge is the only one who sees the situation for what it truly is, the systematic removal of dissenting voices in order to pave the way for all-out war. Therefore, he takes to the streets, seeking to reclaim education from those who would use it as a tool of recruitment and propaganda. It is an effort that is doomed to fail. Soon Noge is arrested, and even Professor Yagihara becomes resigned to his present state. He advocates the students end their strike and return to school. A while later, we see a group of students musically lamenting their lost cause as they stagger home gently after what appears to be a night of heavy drinking. 1933 fades out with the sounds of sorrow; 1938 fades in to the voices of soldiers singing about how glorious it is to fight and die in battle. It is a new day, but not necessarily a better one.

If Noge is the film’s ethical center, then Itokawa is its example of moral weakness. He is the kind of person who seeks to please others even if it means that he embarrasses himself. In one scene, he gets on his hands and knees to beg for Yukie’s forgiveness, not because he has done anything wrong, but rather because Yukie asks him to. Moreover, he can be persuaded to betray his friends and cause his former mentor dishonor, and nonchalantly excuse both actions as him simply following orders. While it’s clear to us, as well as for Yukie, which man is the more honorable one, Yukie’s choice is still a difficult one. Even her father openly hopes that she marry Itokawa, for in Itokawa there is the possibility of a stable, normal life, even if it is one fraught with tediousness.

Kurasawa’s No Regrets for Our Youth is several films simultaneously. It is first the story of a woman who must choose between two men, one offering safety, the other one uncertainty. It is also the story of a country at a time when disagreement was labeled the act of a traitor and when the people who made their voices heard were branded “spies” or “enemies of the state.” Perhaps more importantly, the film is also about Yukie’s maturation and her realization that life is too short to waste time second guessing the decisions she makes. She should live for the moment, no matter how fleeting it may be, and never hesitate for a moment to do the things she knows to be right, no matter what personal toll such actions exact on her. In short, there should be no regrets in her life.

It is remarkable in a way that Kurosawa made No Regrets for Our Youth as soon as he did, for just two years earlier, Kurasawa had made a film called The Most Beautiful, in which the model of a Japanese patriot was a woman who sacrifices herself physically to meet high quotas at an armament factory. That film was designed to rally Japanese workers to work more diligently for the war effort; just two years later however Kurosawa seems to be implying not only that those efforts were futile but also that the entire war was fought under false pretense. The moral hero of No Regrets for Our Youth is not working to arm Japan, but to undermine those determined to plunge it into armed conflict under false pretenses. Exactly how Noge does this is never completely explained. We’re told it has something to do with plotting against Japan on the eve of the bombing of Pearl Harbor, but as Yukie does not ask for details, we do not get any either. And if their time together seems short, it’s because it is. However, it’s not the length of time that matters, but the depth of the relationship. That, and not regretting the decision to have loved and lost so quickly. No Regrets for Our Youth remains a poignant, affective film that dares to say that the freedom we seek must be fought for. For some, this battle is waged in trenches; for others, it is waged in a picket line or in a secret meeting. For Yukie, it is in the arms of the one she loves and in pursuit of a better life for those he left behind. Neither are fights that have any room for regret. (on DVD as part of Eclipse’s Postwar Kurosawa)

3 and a half stars

*No Regrets for Our Youth is in Japanese with white English subtitles.