Tyler's Japanese Canon

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You mean you've seen In The Realm Of Senses? I've been avoiding that for a long time. I tend to prefer the classic Japanese directors to the radical Japanese New Wave directors like Oshima, Immamura and Suzuki.



You mean you've seen In The Realm Of Senses? I've been avoiding that for a long time. I tend to prefer the classic Japanese directors to the radical Japanese New Wave directors like Oshima, Immamura and Suzuki.
I'm not familiar with the film eras of Japan but yeah I really like In the Realm of the Senses, Empire of Passion, and Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence. As far as the other two go I own Vengeance is Mine but haven't seen yet, and I really enjoyed Branded To Kill. I must say that Teshigahara and Kobayashi are still on top for me though.



Bright light. Bright light. Uh oh.
linespalsy really likes Oshima. I saw In the Realm of the Senses in the theatre when it was first released on the West Coast. Talk about utter boredom... I have to admit that I might think a little better of it now, but it's not as "good" as Mr. Lawrence (
) and Passion (
) for me. I haven't seen Hanging.
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I saw Death by Hanging at the Lincoln Center in Manhattan during the Oshima retrospective a couple years ago. It's a pretty bizarre treatment of Japan's racism against Koreans, but not one of his most visually striking and experimental films from that period, as I recall. Other than that I think I liked it, but seeing 20-something Oshima films over a couple weeks, some of them tended to blur together. Judging by your comments, Tyler, I think you'd be more likely to enjoy 'Boy'.



Did the boy do the right thing in keeping the news of his parents death from his sister?

I thought that was definitely the way to go and not to trouble Setsuko, obviously the woman must have gotten a malicious delight in revealing her death. As for Sansho ...

The children were sold as slaves to a rich man named Sansho. Now this Sansho is one of the most brutal and tyrannical piece of **** I've ever seen on film, and he would resort to cruel measures such as branding by fire to deter slaves from escaping.

I think there are more horrid specimens in the film. For instance, the high ranking official Zushiô goes to to plead his case. When the man turns and saunters down the walkway followed by his servants, and there's that long white sash hanging out the back end of his trousers, (seriously, didn't you think he'd gone to the bathroom and forgotten something?) He walks coldly past Zushiô, completely ignoring his desperation---only when they discover noble lineage on his person, in the form a tiny statuette, do they grant him an audience, simply because he's one of them. These guys are the bigger rotters: they are plugged into the system and profit enormously from it, and yet are so refined and removed from it all, as to appear like benevolent philanthropists, bestowing pardons and restoring prestige with a wave of the hand. Also when Zushiô gets his reward, he finds out it's only largely ceremonial with no power but plenty of prestige.

That's also one of the interesting things about the film ... the name. The eponymous Sansho is in reality, only a minor character. He'd be what we would call today, middle management, he only runs this compound for someone much wealthier. Perhaps the film is suggesting he's a kind of surrogate father to the boy?

The lightness of touch in "Sansho the Bailiff" is exquisite. Everything seems to be almost faintly suggested and carried forward like a whisper. Example: the mere sight of Zushiô and Anju in the compound provokes an escape from a woman, who is struck by their similarity to her own children growing up without her: she immediately tries to escape and rejoin them.

Later that day, Taro (the Bailiff's son); spots their educated upbringing. The boy reveals his father's precept to Taro: "that without mercy, man is merely another beast". Taro is struck to the core by these simple words. Any kind of revolt in the compound is severely punished---that there's an alternative to that world is a revelation for him. Buoyed by that precept, he'll leave that night and plead Zushiô's case to the royal court (falling on deaf ears and failing that, he runs away to become a priest). A few moments later, Taro appears in the main hall, and sits next to the treasure trove for the Governor, who literally lifts bags full of coins right in front of his face, delighting in the heft of each bag and showing the audience why cruelty and inequality will always exist, there's plenty of lucre to be made.

After the series of opening flashbacks we settle into the main part of film where the two children have grown up as slaves. Zushiô has completely forgotten his father and internalized his chains. He even throws his father's amulet away as worthless, believing it's far more advantageous to align himself with the slave master. Zushiô has become hardened and cruel; he is the one who now brands runaway slaves. Far away, his mother is also learning the cruel lessons of trying to escape.

It's for Anju to revive their past; she meets a newly arrived slave from the island of Sado. She immediately asks about her mother. but the new girl doesn't know of her. They begins her work and the new girl begins singing a popular song from Sado. Anju sits there, the tears streaming down her face; her mother has returned to her after all those long years, in a song.

Not long afterwards, a pit boss orders Zushiô to get rid of an old dying woman. They literally dump them on the ground like slabs of meat. But Anju accompanies him into the forest outside the locked gates and asks the guard if she can build a little shelter for the old woman. Which causes them to repeat and recall a similar incident from childhood where they also built a shelter that spurs on their escape. Instead of Anju, he takes the old woman---symbolically rescuing their mother.

There's lots of great compositions in the film but the following scene when Anju assures her brother's escape, is utterly breathtaking. A morning mist from the lake fills the scene with a white light, suggesting just how deeply selfless and spiritual her act was.





I think there are more horrid specimens in the film. For instance, the high ranking official Zushiô goes to to plead his case. When the man turns and saunters down the walkway followed by his servants, and there's that long white sash hanging out the back end of his trousers, (seriously, didn't you think he'd gone to the bathroom and forgotten something?) He walks coldly past Zushiô, completely ignoring his desperation---only when they discover noble lineage on his person, in the form a tiny statuette, do they grant him an audience, simply because he's one of them. These guys are the bigger rotters: they are plugged into the system and profit enormously from it, and yet are so refined and removed from it all, as to appear like benevolent philanthropists, bestowing pardons and restoring prestige with a wave of the hand. Also when Zushiô gets his reward, he finds out it's only largely ceremonial with no power but plenty of prestige.
Indeed. Speaking about profitting from the system, when one of the governors visited Sansho's place, he marvelled at Sansho's productivity and praised his methods to achieve that level of productivity. He reaches to the treasures beside him, ignoring the dance put up by the slave dancers. I can only assume that he, like the other governors, were unaware of the cruelties of slavery.

That's also one of the interesting things about the film ... the name. The eponymous Sansho is in reality, only a minor character. He'd be what we would call today, middle management, he only runs this compound for someone much wealthier. Perhaps the film is suggesting he's a kind of surrogate father to the boy?
I dont think that is the case. It would be more fitting to use Sansho for the title as Sansho, in my opinion, is the tyrant who directly manipulates the slaves and gives the orders to punish them. Like I said, I think the government officials were simply apathetic to the plight of the slaves. So long as the Bailiffs produce and produce results, then the Governors wouldnt have probed further.

If we look at it from a different perspective, maybe the true "evil" in this film is neither Sansho nor the government officials. You can say that they were merely carrying out their duty in the name of this system. Perhaps the actual evil people were the villagers who sold the mother and children to slavery. Remember that slavery was common only for homeless peasants. The woman who betrayed them early in the film is motivated by profit. Even the lower class is embroiled in this dirty game.

Taro is struck to the core by these simple words. Any kind of revolt in the compound is severely punished---that there's an alternative to that world is a revelation for him. Buoyed by that precept, he'll leave that night and plead Zushiô's case to the royal court (falling on deaf ears and failing that, he runs away to become a priest). A few moments later, Taro appears in the main hall,
I dont think he could leave for good. I mean, Sansho is his father. He had to return.

Not long afterwards, a pit boss orders Zushiô to get rid of an old dying woman. They literally dump them on the ground like slabs of meat. But Anju accompanies him into the forest outside the locked gates and asks the guard if she can build a little shelter for the old woman. Which causes them to repeat and recall a similar incident from childhood where they also built a shelter that spurs on their escape. Instead of Anju, he takes the old woman---symbolically rescuing their mother.
Interesting... Why do you think Anju committed suicide when it is quite apparent that she could escape? It's surprising because you would not expect that from someone who remembered her father's words and stayed strong after all those years, even correcting Zushio of his ways from time to time.



If we look at it from a different perspective, maybe the true "evil" in this film is neither Sansho nor the government officials. You can say that they were merely carrying out their duty in the name of this system. Perhaps the actual evil people were the villagers who sold the mother and children to slavery. Remember that slavery was common only for homeless peasants. The woman who betrayed them early in the film is motivated by profit. Even the lower class is embroiled in this dirty game.
Zuchio outlaws the buying and selling of human beings in his province the moment he becomes the governor. If no one can buy another human, then no one can sell one. Sure, the criminal element would switch to Kidnap and ransom schemes, but they would tend to target people whose families could pay the ransom. I don't think I can ever blame the poorest members of any society for something that everyone else higher up, is permitted to indulge in, but being removed from the actual exploitation can get away with it with a clear conscience. It's a bit like ourselves marvelling at all the wonderful deals we can find, but dirt cheap products always mean dirt cheap labor.

http://www.spiegel.de/international/business/0,1518,697296,00.html

I dont think he could leave for good. I mean, Sansho is his father. He had to return.
No, Taro has left for good, he's given up the material world. Zuchio meets up with him again in the monastery, he's the monk who gives hides him and the old lady (another irony, the first time we see Taro, he refuses to brand her and he ends up saving her life) from the mob who chases after them.

Why do you think Anju committed suicide when it is quite apparent that she could escape?
That hunting party was really dedicated to finding them. I'm not so sure that without her sacrifice he would have made it. The way they entered and torn up the monastery looking for them, suggests that institution was beneath them and without Taro lying to the mob, they would have been caught right there.



Harakiri (Kobayashi, 1962)




Think of 12 Angry Men meeting Rashomon, and you'd get this superbly crafted “courtroom” drama called Harakiri. An aging samurai wishes to perform harakiri in the house of a samurai clan. However after learning about the gruesome methods which were carried out against another samurai, who happened to be his godson, he began to rebel against the the samurai code. Through flashbacks we witness how his godson, out of desperation for money, was forced to perform harakiri with a bamboo sword. This particular scene can be quite shocking for some; Kobayashi gives a no holds barred indictment of the ritualised act. The ending of this film is strongly reminiscent of Tarantino's Crazy 88 in Kill Bill part1.


Twenty minutes into the film and you have the aging samurai sitting in the courtroom, ready for his sacrificial ritual. Then, he begins to recount and narrate the story of his son to the rest of the samurai. It is interesting to note how calm and composed he is in the face of death. Now he is actually mocking the house of Iyi and all the samurai. These were the same people who embarrassed his godson earlier on.


This is an interesting technique which forces the viewer to be engaged in the flashbacks, while very aware that our protagonist is surrounded by blood-thirsty samurai who are more than willing to cut him down should he refuse to perform harakiri. One just cant wait for the finale which he already knows, right from the very start of the film, is surely inevitable.


The immaculate setting, the unflinching attitude of the samurai despite being mocked at, the samurais' refusal to apologise for their mistakes and the final attempt to cover-up the incident all point to the austerity and fanaticism of the “code of samurai” which Kobayashi intended to censure.




Question to ponder about: Why did the aging samurai commit harakiri at the end of this film when he clearly denounced the act of harakiri, claiming that the samurai code was merely a “facade”?

+



Liked the "lone gunman" story in Harakiri. At the end of the film, the overseer quickly dictates what will be recorded in the official register of the day: the Iyi clan accorded the great honor to a lone, slightly deranged samurai to end his life in their most honorable courtyard. His act of protest is quickly dismissed and given an official spin away from the truth.

Liked the subtle contrast between the two time periods; each period produces and demands men of opposing talents and qualities. In a time of open warfare, you need savvy, fearless soldiers and a black and white code of conduct to survive. In a time of peace and prosperity, you need shysters who can craft legal documents maximizing your advantages and absolving you any kind of responsibility. After all, the young samurai's story was merely a solution to minimize the clan's charitable burdens that looked good on paper.

Loved the minimalist sound track, it only scores select moments with piercing flutes and percussive sounds.

Why did the aging samurai commit harakiri at the end of this film when he clearly denounced the act of harakiri, claiming that the samurai code was merely a facade?
 
Hanshiro is clearly one of Kobayashi's moral men. Being awash in a world of cheats and liars, doesn't absolve one of the burden of honesty and integrity. The house of Iyi may have become soft and corrupt however, Hanshiro is still a warrior, his suicide at the end, signifies he is indeed a man of great honor and greatest integrity. Remember, Hanshiro deliberately choose a poorer way of life for his own daughter---but one filled with love---over another one with great material wealth and prestige, but essentially empty.

The ending seems really bleak, however, I don't think his act fell on deaf ears. His lesson should have resonated in at least a couple of them. Even if all the samurai were bankrupt of any kind of honor, surely they would have noticed the contemptuous treatment of their own men. The master swordsmen who did commit harakiri over the shame of losing his top knot---then was stripped of that honor and officially changed to sudden death syndrome---that mysterious illness that claimed a lot lives in the Iyi clan that day.



Harakiri (Kobayashi, 1962)




Think of 12 Angry Men meeting Rashomon, and you'd get this superbly crafted “courtroom” drama called Harakiri. An aging samurai wishes to perform harakiri in the house of a samurai clan. However after learning about the gruesome methods which were carried out against another samurai, who happened to be his godson, he began to rebel against the the samurai code. Through flashbacks we witness how his godson, out of desperation for money, was forced to perform harakiri with a bamboo sword. This particular scene can be quite shocking for some; Kobayashi gives a no holds barred indictment of the ritualised act. The ending of this film is strongly reminiscent of Tarantino's Crazy 88 in Kill Bill part1.


Twenty minutes into the film and you have the aging samurai sitting in the courtroom, ready for his sacrificial ritual. Then, he begins to recount and narrate the story of his son to the rest of the samurai. It is interesting to note how calm and composed he is in the face of death. Now he is actually mocking the house of Iyi and all the samurai. These were the same people who embarrassed his godson earlier on.


This is an interesting technique which forces the viewer to be engaged in the flashbacks, while very aware that our protagonist is surrounded by blood-thirsty samurai who are more than willing to cut him down should he refuse to perform harakiri. One just cant wait for the finale which he already knows, right from the very start of the film, is surely inevitable.


The immaculate setting, the unflinching attitude of the samurai despite being mocked at, the samurais' refusal to apologise for their mistakes and the final attempt to cover-up the incident all point to the austerity and fanaticism of the “code of samurai” which Kobayashi intended to censure.




Question to ponder about: Why did the aging samurai commit harakiri at the end of this film when he clearly denounced the act of harakiri, claiming that the samurai code was merely a “facade”?

Grade: A
Nice review. Having lived in Japan, I understand Japanese mentality. They are much more bound to the group or clan or company then they are to themselves as individuals and hence the explaination for Hara Kiri, both the movie and real life suicide.
The movie Hara Kiri remains one of my old time Japanese movie favorites, right up there with Rashomon and Red Beard. When I have time, I will post my favorite Japanese movie list. It is quite extensive so I have been saving it for last.



My mind has been blown after watching Harakiri... anyway I will now review Sonatine, which I have watched as well.

Sonatine (Kitano, 1993)




Sonatine is an anti-gangster movie. One thing I like about these 'anti-' movies is that they break free from the pre-existing boundaries, so called rules, which dictate how and what the movie should be like. These limitations stifle the 'genre' films, inhibiting these films from exploring new realms of uncharted territory. Before this movie was made, the director Takeshi “Beat” Kitano was already well known in Japan, not for violent gangster films but as a comedian. As a result, this movie took Japanese audiences by surprise... and it performed poorly in Japan. However, Kitano's gangster persona was well-received in the West. Why? It was something Western audiences were unprepared for. Like I mention before, the 'gangster' movie genre was thought to be about violent, cruel men. Who wants to see childish gangsters? Who wants to see the more jovial, fun-loving side of the life of Yakuza members? But dont worry, this movie does deliver on the violence... and you would be caught unaware as well.


For most part of the film we follow Kitano's character, Murakawa as he and 4 other gang members retreat to a sea-side house after being ambushed by the rival Anan clan. As they wait for things to blow over, Murakawa and the others engage in light-hearted games. They cant escape from their past though, and in the end, as well already know, tragedy would befall them.


What I like about this film is that Kitano does not force us to like his character. (In an earlier scene we see Murakawa beating up another member without flinching at all.) Instead, through those innocent games (okay some arent really innocent. The Russian Roulette scene for example) we get to sympathise with our characters. We get to know them, we laugh with them. Throughout the scenes at the beach there is this pervading sense of dread which we know, would inevitably come. Therefore we the audience, like Murakawa and his gang, try to cherish these fun times as much as we can. We do not know what is going on on the 'outside world' – what about the negotiation between the 2 rival gangs we know nothing about that. Murakawa himself, despite having a tough Yakuza persona, is clearly shown to be afraid of death (as seen from his dream). In this tranquility, we see that our anti-heroes behave just like ordinary men, not like some blood thirsty Scarface superhero who does not fear death.


But the violence does not disappoint. Scenes of violence are very abrupt and sudden (a devise which Kitano would employ in his later more successful film Hana-Bi). Such heightens the brutality of those violent scenes. There is one scene in particular which is extremely well done; Kitano's character realises that two of the guys in the elevator are the ones he plan to kill. And then following a shoot-out, the camera cuts to the dead bodies. I love this scene a lot.


There is nothing much to analyse here like the previous film Woman In The Dunes. This is one of the best films I've seen from modern Japanese cinema. Don't miss this one out (and Hana-Bi).

Rating: 4.5 / 5 (A)
Your review of this movie is spot-on. I'm a big fan of Takeshi Kitano and have all his movies. Hanabi ( Fireworks ) is right up your alley and if you haven't seen it yet, you must.



By the way, Takeshi Miike just made a re-make of Hara Kiri. I'm looking forward to seeing it. I was impressed by his 13 Assassins, although he is one of those guys, you just don't know what to expect.
Also, next week, I'll be getting Takeshi Kitano's latest violent film: Outrage.



Speaking of Kitano, what did you think of Dolls?
A girly movie. He's got that feminine side to him even though his capable of extreme violence and that's one of the things I like him for as well as his ability to mix that violence with philosophy and thus create a deeper meaning.



Miss Vicky's Loyal and Willing Slave
As requested by JayDee, I will resurrect this thread. I have been wanting to do reviews for these films:
Woah woah woah! I wouldn't say I requested it, I merely inquiried.

Interested in your review of Branded to Kill after recently watching one of Sezuki's other works, Tokyo Drifter. Didn't quite work for me but was curious enough that I might be interested in watching Branded. Especially as the general consensus seems to be that's the better film.



Giants and Toys (Yasuzo Masumura, 1958)

The public are worse than dogs.... they don't think, work like slaves... That's when we come in, fill their empty heads with slogans”

Synopsis: Yasuzo Masumura's dark satire of postwar Japan's cutthroat business culture stars Hiroshi Kawaguchias Nishi, a young executive for a candy company locked in fierce competition with two rival companies. By chance he and another executive in his company meet a loudmouthed female taxi driver with bad teeth, Kyoko (Hitomi Nozoe), who they transform, through a clever marketing campaign, into an unlikely sex symbol to launch their new line of caramels. Nishi also tries to extract information about his competitors' marketing plans through an old college friend at one company and a girlfriend at another. Along the way he finds himself falling for Kyoko, but finds that the worlds of business and love are painfully incompatible.

Released in 1958, before the advent of the French New Wave and Japanese New Wave, Giants and Toys was shot in beautiful techicolour unlike most other films of that era. During the 50s post-war Japan experienced what many call an economic miracle; in the span of 20 years Japan not only rebounced back from its WW2 devastation, but also emerged as a superpower with astounding economic growth. Giants and Toys takes aim at the newly cutthroat corporate climate, where giant corporations compete for sales, bemoaning the loss of traditional samurai values of compassion even between rivals.

The star of this film however wasn't Hiroshi Kawaguchi (whose exaggerated performance ruined certain crucial scenes) but the young teenage girl with ugly teeth who was used as a mascot for World company. World Company under the leadership of Mr. Goda planned to dress the pretty mascot up in space suits and spent lavish amounts of money to turn her into a superstar in an attempt to catapult declining caramel sales.

The downside of the film however is that it lacks the urgency that made Kubrick's Dr. Strangelove a gripping and terrifying experience. Its so “in-your-face” and repeats the same old ideas as if the audience doesn't already know that the company is in desperate need for more sales, its also too unsubtle for the audience to ponder over the ramifications of corporate greed since it does all the talking. It doesn't really engage your mind like how a satire should.

Nonetheless, Masamura’s ‘Scope compositions, pop art colors and space age props make for a perfect window dressing of a social satire that feels not only prescient but prophetic.





2 Films this time.

Ohikkoshi / Moving (Shinji Somai, 1993)



It appears that some films grow on you, even without rewatching them, by just thinking and remembering various scenes or vignettes. Moving tells a very simple story of how a young girl tries to bridge the emotional gap between her two estrangled parents, leading up to a stunningly surreal ending. I have always emphasised why I enjoy cinema that is humanistic and poignant, joyous and ennobling, that deal with the quotidian struggles of characters who might just represent you or me. There is nothing flamboyant or pretentious about such films. Shinji Somai's film feels unhurried, as if taking its time to capture all the subtle emotions that run deep in every character's mind, timeless and magical.

Rating:



Maboroshi (Hirokazu Koreeda, 1995)



This is another brilliant Japanese film of the 90s - Maboroshi no hikari (directly translated: Strange Light/Strange Illusion) that deal with separation and ultimately, loss. Hirokazu Koreeda is one of the finest directors working today, and it's not hard to see why he has been called Ozu's successor. Using reflections of light and shadows to convey a sense of deep loss and melancholy, Maborosi casts light into the soul of a woman who one day finds herself left alone with her child after the mysterious disapperance of her husband. Watching this for the third time, I suddenly felt serenity and profundity completely wash over me.

Rating:



Minamata: The Victims and Their World (Noriaki Tsuchimoto, 1972)



Mark Cousins' recent documentary 'The Story of Film: An Odyssey' had a section dedicated to what he called the radicalization of world cinema in the 70s. In Europe directors such as Fassbinder and Pasolini were radicalising their own countries' cinema with bold and daring films, while other directors around the world were also making highly personal films. In his discussion of the Japanese New Wave Cousins introduced Minamata: the Victims and their World, a film rarely seen by the public but deserving of all the acclaim that it could get.

In the small town of Minamata, the fertilizer company Chisso built a factory to take advantage of cheap labor and commenced dumping mercury-filled wastewater into the nearby sea. Soon residents began exhibiting symptoms of a mysterious illness, a happening that would eventually develop into the worst case of environmental pollution in postwar Japan.

Tsuchimoto's camera captures the sorrow faced by the victims and their family as they struggle to cope and survive with the crippling illness. The love and compassion that these unfortunate people show to each other is inspiring. Above all, we become witness to the human will to endure.

One of the most harrowing scenes involve the families of the victims demanding compensation from the big bosses of the company responsible during the annual stockholders' meeting. Stone-faced and offering half-hearted apologies, the company's spokesmen could do little to assuage the indignation of these grieving relatives. Such is the human cost in our relentless pursuit of profit.

Rating:
- Nothing short of a masterpiece, one of my top 100 films.