April 16, 2015
Humanity and Paper
Hearts – Japan, 1937

Humanity and Paper
Hearts, Yamanaka’s final film, is essentially about two poor men trying to
lift themselves out of the slums. One is a masterless samurai named Matajuro Unno
(Chojuro Kawarasaki), who seems to have been born at the wrong time; he still
adheres to codes of professional conduct and believes in the time-honored tradition
of reciprocity. In this particular case, his late father helped a master
samurai achieve his present status, and Matajuro believes that this man will return
the favor if only he‘ll just read the letter his late father wrote on his
behalf. This proves harder than it should. The other is Shinza (Kan’emon
Nakamura), a hairdresser with dreams of making more of himself. His means of
achieving this is slightly less honorable than Unno’s – he wants to run a
gambling den. The problem is that the area’s corrupt local officials have a
monopoly on that industry, and they are not shy about eliminating their
competition. It isn’t hard to see the plights of these two characters as a
commentary on both the military and the government in 1930s Japan.
The film begins with news of a suicide in the poor part of
town that these two characters reside in, and it is in these early scenes that
we can perceive the film’s third area of social commentary. It seems that
society has grown apathetic. As news spreads of the samurai’s death, only
callous remarks can be heard from his neighbors. Some even consider him dishonorable
for not committing hara-kiri despite the fact that poverty had forced him to
sell his sword. His landlord only cares about the trouble that could come as a
result of his death and the difficulty he will now have renting out the samurai’s
small shack. Only Shinza and Matajuro display any real respect for the
deceased, and it is Shinza that recommends that the landlord spring for a wake
in his honor. Unfortunately, it becomes just another occasion for drunken
revelry. As one character later says, “What times we live in.” What times
indeed.
As the film progresses, we meet an array of interesting
characters. There’s a blind man who sees better than most of his neighbors; his
neighbor who connives to steal the blind man’s cherished pipe; Master Mori,
whose indifference knows no bounds; and Miss Okama, whose heart is big enough
to love someone her family wouldn’t likely approve of, but not big enough to
accept the kindness of those she considers to be beneath her in social rank. There
is also Matajuro’s faithful wife, Otaki (Shizue Yamagishi), who reminds her
husband every day to stay healthy in the hopes that he will one day return to a
position of respectability. All of her hopes are in the letter that Matajuro
carries is his pocket, and the scene in which she discovers the truth is
utterly heartbreaking.
Humanity and Paper
Balloons is moving, demoralizing, and unforgettable. It is a film that
seems to indicate the pointlessness of decency, that it is only the wicked and
corrupt that get all the glory. In this world, the film screams, there is no place
for decent ronin, no room for fair competition, and no genuine opportunity for
upward mobility. It is all about whom one knows. By the time the film comes to
its inevitably bleak conclusion, we have come to understand what drove the
nameless samurai referred to at the beginning of the film to end his life, and
we understand the actions of the two lead characters at the end of the film. After
all, it is only natural to want to show your potential, even if displaying it carries
such tragic consequences. And we feel a great deal of respect for those two for
fighting a battle that they likely knew they could never win and for never
compromising their principles while doing so. Humanity and Paper Balloons is never easy, yet it remains a truly impressive
achievement. (on DVD in Region 2 and 3)
4 stars
*Humanity and Paper
Balloons is in Japanese with English subtitles.
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