In Memoriam

Gone, But Not Forgotten

Setsuko Hara

June 17, 1920 - September 5, 2015

An exceptional actress during an exceptional time in Japanese cinema

A link to Patrick Z. McGavin's excellent piece on her.
http://www.rogerebert.com/balder-and-dash/setsuko-hara-1920-2015 

Review – Repast

June 6, 2010

Repast – Japan, 1951

Mikio Naruse’s Repast takes place in an area of Osaka, Japan, that is apparently so far from the city’s bustling downtown district that it feels more like a small town than a major city. Jobs are hard to come by, and one resident has turned to selling rice door to door to eke out a living. The only one who seems to have it easy is the mistress of a successful businessman. The residents of the area are also having to cope with a society that is rapidly changing. Many of its young residents wear Western clothes and are beginning to display values that are considered much more Western than Eastern. I wonder if these Western values are in conflict with what people often do during times of great economic difficulty. After all, given a choice between someone they love who is poor and someone who they might be able to like later on but who can support them financially now, many independent-minded people, I imagine, would have a hard time automatically listening to their heart.

Repast is the story of a marriage in trouble. We first meet Michiyo Okamoto (Setsuko Hara), who through narration explains that she and her husband, Hatsunosuke (Ken Uehara), have been married for five years and that after three years they moved from Tokyo to Osaka. In Osaka, her dreams of having an exciting, easy life faded, replaced by hours of mundane housework often done in complete solitude. In addition, according to Michiyo, her husband hardly notices her anymore. In the film’s opening scene, Hatsunosuke sits in the living room reading the newspaper, looking up only to ask his wife, “Is breakfast coming?” Their conversation doesn’t improve much from there. Later that day, Hatsunosuke’s much younger niece Satoko (Yukiko Shimazaki) arrives unexpectedly from Tokyo. The change in Hatsunosuke’s demeanor is immediately apparent. He finds himself smiling more and seems much more energetic. I suppose part of the reason for this is that Satoko breaks the monotony that had existed before her arrival. That she openly flirts with her uncle is an added bonus. Eventually, Michiyo decides that she has had enough and returns to her family in Tokyo to think things over.

Repast tells a story that on the surface seems rather simple. I suspect that the reason it appears so is that the first scene is shown from Michiyo’s point of view, and therefore it causes us to initially accept what she tells us about Hatsunosuke as fact. However, as the film’s perspective widens, we see that there is more to Hatsu that what Michiyo sees. In fact, he has many admirable qualities. He is hardworking during a time of high unemployment, faithful even when given the opportunity to cheat, and observant of others’ feelings. He seems well aware of the effect his cousin’s presence is having on his wife. He simply doesn’t know what to do. It seems rude to ask her to leave, but it may be disrespectful to allow her to continue staying with them.

Repast, like his later film Sound of the Mountain, takes places in a Japan still greatly affected by World War II. Crime has risen, and women far outnumber men, a fact that may have caused Michiyo to get married a bit earlier than her and her family would have liked. We also get the impression that there is a great deal of competition for available men and that Hatsu would probably not have too much trouble getting married again if Michiyo indeed left him. In Tokyo, Michiyo runs into an old friend whose husband is still listed as missing from the war. With a child to take care of and her government aid ending in two months, her friend’s future seems bleak. In another scene, we see throngs of people lined up outside the unemployment office. Their slow heavy walk gives us the impression that they’ve been lining up like this for some time now. Clearly, starting over will not be easy for Michiyo. There is another problem. Perhaps in other, more prosperous times, Michiyo’s family would be more supportive of her decision to leave Hatsu. However, under these circumstances, they are unanimous in their belief that she should return to Osaka and to her life with Hatsu.

Despite these interesting subplots and the empathy I had for Michiyo, I always felt that I knew exactly how the film would end, and unfortunately, I wasn’t wrong. However, exactly why it happens is up for debate. Is it the result of Michiyo rediscovering her passion and hopes, or is it a response to the realization that she has few other options? Has she simply resigned herself to the fact that this is what her life is going to be like? There’s evidence to support both viewpoints. Being a romantic by nature, I wanted to accept the rosier perspective, yet I found myself drawn toward the more pessimistic one. This was despite my newfound respect for Hatsu, who by the end of the film sees his wife from an entirely new perspective.

Repast requires patience, as it moves at a rather deliberately slow pace. However, what it lacks in pacing, it makes up for in fascinating characters and situations. In addition, Naruse gets excellent performances from his cast. Repast is also a very timely film. Watching it now, I couldn’t help but recall an article I read about the increase divorce rate among retirees in Japan. According to the article, many of these divorces stemmed from retired husbands returning to a house they had hardly spent time in and to wives they barely knew and expecting to be taken care of. The men were apparently completely caught off guard by their wives’ response. They shouldn’t have been, though. Films and books like Repast had already shown how unhappy people could be in such an arrangement. Why would it have been different fifty years later? (on DVD in Region 2 and 3; the Region 3 DVD does not have English subtitles)

3 and a half stars

*Repast is in Japanese in English subtitles.

Review – Sound of the Mountain

May 25, 2010

Sound of the Mountain – Japan, 1954

Few women nowadays would leave a man just because he was married.

Contrary to the way we envision the past, there may never have actually been a time of complete adherence to moral codes. However, the sentiments expressed in the above quote make it clear that in the past Japanese women who became involved with a married man were expected to put someone else’s feelings above their own, to sacrifice their own happiness for the preservation of someone else’s marriage, regardless of the emotional pain such a sacrifice inflicted on them personally. It’s a lot to ask of someone, and the end of World War II appears to have made such a sacrifice more difficult to make. In post-war Japan, a country in which marriage and family have for centuries been of the utmost importance, women found themselves greatly outnumbering men. In addition, the war had made widows and orphans of many, and the future was very uncertain.

Mikio Naruse’s masterful 1954 film Sound of the Mountain takes place during this time of great uncertainty and change in Japan. It tells the story of one family dealing with a multitude of issues, ranging from unfulfilled dreams and family disappointments to the looming possibility of divorce. It is a film in which a father will do all he can to keep his son’s marriage intact, and a young woman will do all she can to be the kind of wife and daughter-in-law that her new family will be proud of. Time is simply not cooperating, and as the film opens, infidelity is threatening to tear the family apart.

Towards the beginning of the film, the father, a man named Shingo Ogata (So Yamamura), asks his son, Shuuichi (Ken Uehara), to explain his reasons for having an extramarital affair. Shuuichi rather calmly explains the difference between his wife and his mistress as being similar to the difference between a torrent and a lake. I suppose the implication here is that he married the lake, yet yearns for the torrent. Is it then that he would have preferred to have married the torrent or that he wishes his wife were more like one? He does after all continually refer to his wife as a child, perhaps implying that she is like a child in bed. However, as one of his mistress’s friends rather crudely explains, “He can’t force his young wife to act like a prostitute.” And so Shuuichi continues to have the affair, regardless of who knows about it or the emotional toll it is taking on his kind and adorable wife, Kikuko (Setsuko Hara). Eventually, Shingo takes the usual step of trying to convince his son’s mistress to end the relationship once and for all, hoping that a conclusion to the relationship will reinvigorate his son and Kikuko’s marriage.

Much of what transpires in Sound of the Mountain is shown from Shingo’s perspective, and in truth, he may not be completely impartial. Clearly, he and Kikuko have formed a very deep bond. In fact, Kikuko seems happiest when she is around her father-in-law, and he beams when she is around him. Viewers will have to decide for themselves if there is more to their feelings than just appreciation and respect. Shingo’s wife, however, has another theory. She suspects her husband is trying too hard to make up for her son’s ill-treatment of Kikuko and tells her husband that he is only making it harder for her, that he is killing her with kindness. She may have a point. In addition, as the film progresses, we get the impression that Shingo’s perception of Kikuko may not be entirely complete, and by the end of the film, I couldn’t help feeling just a tinge of empathy for Shuuichi. Whatever he went through during the war is clearly still affecting him.

Sound of the Mountains is one of the most involving movies I have seen in a long time, due in large part to the impressive performances of the cast, in particular Setsuko Hara and So Yamamura. However, credit must also be given to Yoko Mizuki for so effectively adapting Yasunari Kawabata’s novel. Mizuki’s script touches on themes that not many people associate with films from the 1950’s. For example, at one point, Shingo references “swapping parties” and is relieved to know that his son is not attending them. This is also a film that openly discusses issues such as divorce and parental failures. It is not a film that presents the fifties as being innocent, and yet there is a hopefulness to the film that is hard to describe. Perhaps hope is what people must have when the immediately past has been as challenging as it was for Japan in the 1950’s.

Sound of the Mountain is a hard film to find. It was released in Region 2 as part of a three-disc box set in December of 2006, yet it has not been released in Region 1. The film is also available on DVD in Region 3. However, it does not have English subtitles. Given the present reluctance of companies to release classic foreign films on DVD, it’s hard to tell if it will be released in the United States at all. This is a shame, for audiences in the United States deserve a chance to discover the film for themselves. I can only hope that the good people at the Criterion Collection will eventually release the film in Region 1. In truth, I had not seen any of Naruse’s films prior to seeing Sound of the Mountain. However, I consider myself fortunate to have seen it, for the film reminded me that there are other masterpieces out there just waiting to be rediscovered.

5 stars

*Sound of the Mountain 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.

Review – Early Summer

September 13, 2008

Early Summer – Japan, 1951

Yosujiro Ozu's Early Summer opens with a normal morning. Noriko and Fumiko, her sister-in-law, eat breakfast with Fumiko’s two small children. The younger of the two, Isamu, doesn’t want to wash up and exerts more energy avoiding doing so then he would spend by simply following his mother’s instructions. Fumiko’s husband stands at a mirror preparing for work. Before long most of them will be sitting around the table, occasionally talking, occasionally silent, but always smiling. They are, in short, a collective unit. The audience sees this family from a distance, and in doing so, they are able to see something extraordinary. This is a house with no closed doors. Hallways lead to open rooms, and at any turn one can expect to bump into a family member. It is as if nothing is hidden in this house, as if their lives are as connected as the halls they occupy daily. It is an attachment that will be tested by Western ideals and a clash in post-war ways of thinking.

It is 1951, and Japan is a country undergoing a significant transformation. While some women in Japan have embraced more Western styles of dress, others continue to wear traditional kimonos. While some hold onto time-honored notions of the importance of marriage, others celebrate being single because of the financial and physical freedom it gives them. The chasm between those adhering to tradition and those adopting Western values is evident. Witness the way Noriko and her friend Aya tease – and anger – their married friends by insinuating that married women are more restricted and less content than single women. Their friends give back as good as they get, but there is no denying that the back-and-forth banter wounds them on a personal level. This is evident later when a party planned for the four of them turns into tea for two, with those women with husbands choosing to stay away, perhaps permanently severing their long-time friendships.

Much of the drama in Early Summer comes after Noriko’s boss, Mr. Satake, suggests that Noriko marry a friend of his, Mr. Manabe. Noriko says she’ll consider the offer, but never appears to seriously think about it. Word of the possible match spreads through Noriko’s friends and family, not through Noriko herself. No matter, the offer is out in the open, Noriko’s family quickly gets behind the idea. After all, Mr. Manabe is successful, he’s from a respectable family, and he will enable the family to maintain their financial position. In addition, Noriko is already 28, a fact that causes her family to worry that she is already too old to get married. Notice that neither of these reasons is that love has blossomed between the prospective bride and groom, and for a woman like Noriko, that omission may be a deal-breaker.

As the film moves along, it becomes clear that Early Summer is very much about the passage of time and how irreversible the change that comes with that passage is, even if many prefer the cultural norms of their grand-parents. For their part, Noriko’s family clings to many long-held roles, such as the one that assigns certain powers and privileges to the eldest son. In this case, that son is Koichi. It is he who investigates his sister’s prospective husband, and after he deems the match acceptable, it is he who chastises his mother for having second thoughts, accusing her of wanting too much for her daughter. Like his parents and wife, he is blind to the quiet revolution that is taking place in front of him. A young woman has seized control of her destiny, and her family, as well as her country, has been permanently altered. (on DVD from Criterion Collection)

4 stars

*Early Summer is in Japanese with English subtitles)