CURRENTS IN

Essays by Tadao Sato

Translated by Gregory Barrett
 13.95

CURRENTS IN JAPANESE CINEMA

Over the last two decades, the reputation of
Japanese films has spread internationally, and
this fact is witnessed by the publication of
numerous books on the subject. However, all
these studies on film have been written by West
ern specialists, from a Western point of view,
which makes this book—the first work in Eng
lish by a Japanese film critic—particularly inter
esting as well as unique.
Tadao Sato is regarded as the leading film
critic in Japan, and this volume is a selection of
some of his best essays on film. A prolific writer
and avid movie reviewer for the past thirty
years, he has published some sixty-five books on
film and other aspects of popular culture. Per
haps one reason for his enormous following is
that he is neither rigidly academic nor overly in
tellectual, preferring to place his emphasis on
understanding the feelings of ordinary people.
To Sato, film is an accurate mirror of any social
change or development.
As a Japanese, Tadao Sato's critical standpoint
is markedly different from that of Westerners.
He is less prone to aesthetic considerations alone
and is far more sensitive to the intricacies of his
torical events within Japan and the idiosyncra
sies of Japanese culture. Throughout this collec
tion of essays—whether he is discussing Ozu's
camera techniques or the role of the father in
Kurosawa's movies—his writing is unmistakably
tinged with his inside knowledge of Japanese
society.

Sfffi2,200P3
In Japan
CURRENTS IN JAPANESE CINEMA
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KODANSHA INTERNATIONAL LTD.

APANESE CINEMA
Essays by Tadao Sato
ranslated by Gregory Barrett

y
I
Publication of this book was assisted by a grant from
The Japan Foundation.

Jacket photo and photo on p. 240 courtesy

Kawakita Memorial Film Institute.

Distributed in the United States by Kodansha Internation

al/USA, Ltd. through Harper & Row, Publishers, Inc., 10
East 53rd Street, New York, New York 10022.
Published by Kodansha International Ltd., 2-2, Otowa
1-chome, Bunkyo-ku, Tokyo 112 and Kodansha Internation
al/USA, Ltd., with offices at 10 East 53rd Street, New York,
New York 10022 and The Hearst Building, 5 Third Street,
Suite No. 400, San Francisco, California 94103. Copyright ©
1982 by Kodansha International Ltd. All rights reserved.
Printed in Japan.

First edition, 1982

First paperback edition, 1987

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

Sato, Tadao, 1930-
Currents in Japanese cinema.
Rev. translation of: Nihon eiga shiso shi.
Includes index.
1. Moving-pictures-Japan-Addresses, essays, lectures.
I. Title.
PN1993.5.J3S2713 1982 791.43'0952 81-84801
ISBN 0-87011-815-3 (U.S.)
ISBN 4-7700-1315-9 (Japan)
CONTENTS

Preface: Tradition and Reform in the Japanese 7

Cinema

Translator's Introduction 10

Acknowledgments 13

1. The Two Leading Men in Japanese Film 15

2. The Influence of Foreign Films 31
3. Developments in Period Drama Films 38
1. New Heroes 38
The Nihilistic Hero
The Free Spirit Hero
Musashi Miyamoto
2. Bushido 44
3. Modern Yakuza Films 51
4. Film Heroines 73
1. Their Occupations 73
2. The Unfortunate Woman 75
3. Beautiful Women 87
4. Women and Karma 92
5. Women and Freedom 93
5. Japanese War Films 100
1. ''National Policy Films" 100
2. The Postwar "Conversion" 104
6. The Meaning of Life in Kurosawa's Films 116
7. The Family 124
1. Kurosawa's Fathers 124
2. Ozu's Fathers 131
3. The "Home Drama" Genre 139
8. The Villain 161
1. The Change in His Image 161
2. Transfigurations of Evil 165
9. Cinematic Techniques 178
1. Mizoguchi 178
2. Ozu 185
3. Eye Behavior in the Films of Ozu and Naruse 193
10. American-Japanese Relations in Japanese Films 197
1. The Bomb 197
2. The Rashamen Genre 200
11. Developments in the 1960s 208
1. The Background: Hani and Masumura 208
2. The Rebel and the Criminal: Oshima 213
3. Evanescence and Humor: Suzuki 221
4. Sex and Violence 229
5. Cinematic Guerrillas 238
12. Developments in the 1970s 240
APPENDIX I: A Chronology 249
APPENDIX II: An Interpretive Biography 263
by Gregory Barrett
INDEX 274
PREFACE

Tradition and Reform

in the Japanese Cinema

The Japanese film industry began around the year 1900. Only
some three decades had passed since the Meiji Restoration of
1868, when Japan ceased being a closed feudal country on the
outer fringes of Asia. Although a modern, Westernized nation
was already in the making, the feelings of the population were
slower to change, and both literature and drama were stillsteeped
in traditionalism. Modern Western forms of drama were still at
the experimentation level, supported by a small faction of intel
lectuals. Since film had its origins as an entertainment form for the
masses, it drew heavily on traditional drama and literature for
material, especially from Kabuki and kodan ("historical tales").
The former usually concerned a samurai giving up his life out of
loyalty for his lord, and the latter a samurai avenging the death
of a parent. Thus early film contained a paradox: it was a new
means of expression but what it expressed was old. In primitive
cinema, themes had to be kept simple, thereby earning the long-
lasting scorn of intellectuals who found its subjects outmoded
and infantile, and its producers uncultured and uncouth.
The novelty of cinema, however, primarily excited children,
and when they grew up some of them wondered if new themes
could be expressed through the hew medium. And in the 1920s
these youths began making films. At that time Japanese society
looked down on this occupation, considering it mere socializing
with the masses, and sons who entered the film world were
quickly disowned by their upper- and middle-class parents. This
did not deter these young men, however, who were obsessed with
this Western medium and with liberal ideas. Thus began the
battle between the old and the new.
§ This battle had reverberations in the world of literature
^ and drama. Whereas new. Westernized ideas could be realized
§ through the support of a small number ofintellectual play lovers
S and readers, the cinema, on the other hand, had to cater to the
S populace at large, conservatives and intellectuals included. While
^ this condition resulted in compromises, frustrations, and the
> abandonment of ideals, it subsequently gave rise to new ideas
§ that appealed to a sufficiently wide audience, which cannot be
W said for similar reform movements in literature, where the use of
2 difficult language raised a permanent barrier before the masses.
W The film world, on the other hand, like the entertainment world
> of feudal times, had a closeconnection with yakuza, gangsters,
whose language was easily understandable. From its inception
the yakuza figured both in its management and its employees,
and this low-class image deterred many a graduate from enter
ing its ranks until the 1930s.
Besides the yakuza, studios were filled with ambitious young
men who only had the benefit of a primary education but were
possessed with a keen desire to learn. One of them was Kenji
Mizoguchi (1898-1956), who made his directorial debut in
1923. Another was Teinosuke Kinugasa (1896-1982), who made
Japan's first avant-garde film in 1926, the masterpiece A Crazy
Page (Kurutta Ippeiji)\ he had run away from home to join a
troupe of itinerant actors and became a star of the popular
theater. Still another was Hiroshi Inagaki (1905-81), winner of
the Grand Prix at the 1958 Venice Film Festival for The Life of
8 Matsu the Untamed [Muho Matsu no Issho)^ who had to help support
his family as a child actor and only learned to read and write
in dressing rooms.
In the 1930s college graduates began entering the film world.
Some were forced to leave college after their arrest for partici
pating in the communist movement during the years of the depres
sion. Unlike most enterprises, motion picture studios usually did
not discriminate against them, perhaps because the rightist ja-
kuza sympathized with fellow trouble-makers. Then, too, they
may have been welcomed simply because there had been few
graduates in the industry before. Or, again, it could have been
due to the lax standards in hiring applicants. In this way did some
of motion pictures' brightest directors—Akira Kurosawa, Tadashi
Imai,Satsuo Yamamoto—enter the film world. In the 1950s, too, ^
when graduates from top universities flooded the studios trying §
for assistant director jobs, their number included several activists, g
w
among them Nagisa Oshima, Shinsuke Ogawa, and Noriaki
Tsuchimoto, the latter two being pioneers of the antiestablish-
ment documentary film movement. By the 1930s the reputation of
film—as a result of the masterpieces produced then—had im
proved so considerably that university graduates were clamoring
for the privilege of working with master directors with the mini
mum formal education.
The film world of the 1930s was probably the most diverse
society in Japan—the self-educated, rightists, leftist intellectuals,
graduates—and studios became a sort of marketplace for sound
ing out the ideas of the intellectuals and the feelings of the com
mon populace. Always groping for new modes of expression,
the responsiveness of film to both intellectual movements and
popular sentiments created fads that were sometimes difficult to
account for.
One example was the fad for the so-called tendency films in
1930-31. Although Marxist thought was prevalent in book form
until then, tendency films disseminated its ideas to the populace
at large. This fad, along with other leftist movements, was com
pletely suppressed by the government. Then, in 1931, with the
occupation of Manchuria leading to war with China, film
makers, as suddenly as before and without the slightest trace of
embarrassment, created a new fad for films that glorified mili
tarism. Among their number were severaldirectors who had been
making leftist films. Thus, the battle between old and new had
its extremely erratic side. Yet however wildly cinematic modes
of expression may fluctuate, film is still rooted in the conscious
ness of the common people, where ideas do not change so easily.
Japan had cast off feudalism to embrace modernism with
such haste and vigor that repercussions of the battle between
old and new were being felt at all levels of society. However, as
the movements in the film world have been the most active and
lively, it is through film that we will witness the clearest tremors
of that battle.

TadAO Sato
Tokyo, 1982
 TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCTION

In 1956 Tadao Sato drew the public's attention with the publica
tion of his first book, JVihon no eiga {Japanese Film), for which he
won the 1957 Critic's Award presented by Kinema Jumpo, the
leading film magazine. Since then he has published sixty-five
books on film—including volumes on Mizoguchi, Ozu, Kuro
sawa, and Oshima—and on other aspects of popular culture, such
as comic books {manga) and television, and on education. Most
of the essays in this collection are taken from Nihon eiga shiso-shi
{The Intellectual History of Japanese Film), published in 1970 and
reprinted seventeen times.
The publication of Nihon no eiga altered the course of film cri
ticism in Japan by introducing a new approach. Until that time
film critics could be roughly divided into two types, the ideo
logues and the aesthetes. The ideologues judged a film by
sociopolitical standards (usually "modernism," democracy, or
jQ communism) and, accordingly, criticized a Mizoguchi work on
the self-sacrifice of women for its feudalism. The aesthetes, on the
other hand, would praise the same film for its atmospheric effects,
its acting, and so on. Both types of critics were college graduates,
who, in a country as academically oriented as Japan, constitute
the elite class.
Tadao Sato, unlike them, never went to college and began
writing film reviews while working as a telephone repairman. He
felt that understanding the sentiments of a film was more impor
tant than its ideology or its conformity to aesthetic standards.
A large number of readers shared his view and felt that Sato was
better suited to understanding the sentiments of the people than
the college-educated intellectuals.
 Sato's success also swept aside biases toward certain film ^
genres, for he reviewed films that were beneath the dignity ofthe ^
ideologues and aesthetes, for example, melodramas, slapstick ^
comedies, and chambara, or swordfighting, films. He felt that such h
works were significant because they reflected the feelings of the §
common people, and it was the critic's task to consider the ^
implications they aroused. Nowadays these genres are taken g
seriously by most Japanese film critics, and some even find value ^
in some of the soft-core pornographic films currently produced §
in abundance. ^
Given Sato's background and approach to film, he can be ^
called the common man's ally; however, as he is a firm believer §
in progress, he can also be critical of sentiments that he regards
as hoken-tekiy or feudalistic. Like many Japanese intellectuals he
uses the word in a derogatory fashion to refer to pre-Meiji period
ideas and sentiments that continue to exist today, especially feudal
sentiments that emphasize submission to one's superiors. While
he is similar to the ideologues in this respect, he believes that new
ideas can only gain wide currency if their expression is synchro
nized with the sentiments of the common people. In other words,
the ideas cannot be forced down people's throats by a few intel
lectual leaders. Until the invasion of television in the 1960s,
cinema, to him, was the best forum for the introduction of new
thought.
Sato's antifeudalistic stance leads him to assume an am
bivalent attitude toward the traditional culture of Japan and, in
this respect, he differs from Western critics such as Donald Richie, \ j
Joseph Anderson, Paul Schrader, Audie Bock, or Noel Burch.
All of them discuss Japanese film in terms of traditional aesthetics
and concepts, particularly Zen Buddhism, looking upon tradi
tion positively as a repository of alternate modes of thought and
perception that present a stimulating challenge to Western
thought. Sato, on the contrary, favors popular culture over
traditional in his treatment of Japanese film. While Sato appre
ciates the beauty inherent in traditional forms, he firmly rejects
their feudalistic contents, perhaps as a result of his own youth
when traditional concepts were used to inculcate submission
to the state and even resignation to death on the battlefield.
Moreover, as most of Japan's aesthetic heritage was fostered by
g the upper classes, it is not necessarily a reflection of thesentiments
^ of the common people of the past nor of the average Japanese
§ today.
So Sato's interest in the sentiments of the average man and his
§ own belief in human progress add a second dimension to his
approach to film criticism. The essays in this collection are just
^ as much about modern social history as they are about film, for
§ films mirror social developments and reflect how sentiments
w change or become further entrenched. This second dimension
may leave him open to criticism on methodological grounds. It
w seems that in the West, due to semiology, film criticism is be-
> coming more and more of an academic discipline, and Sato's
social concerns could be considered external to the study of the
mechanics of film. However, while semiology has its adherents
in Japan, its disciplinarian approach is not prevalent at present.
Sato can be as analytical in regard to cinematic technique as the
structuralist Noel Burch, but he regards structural analysis as
only one factor in a comprehensive approach that includes a
critical evaluation of social concerns. At any rate, it is the reader
who will benefit from Sato's comprehensive approach, for not only
will he obtain film evaluations that make interesting comparisons
with those of Western critics like Richie but he will also receive
a rare view of modern Ja^panese history.
In Japan, as in the West, most histories are written with an
emphasis on politics and economics, and since the leaders in
these fields take the spotlight, the view is usually from the top
12 looking down. The combination of Sato's concern with the sen
timents of the common people and his interest in intellectual
thought presents a view of history that can be best described as at
a gut level.
Gregory Barrett
Tokyoj 1982
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

In this work the translator makes the following acknowledgments:

to Peter High for his first draft of some of the material in this
volume and his translation of part of Chapter 5, which appeared
as "War as a Spiritual Exercise: Japan's 'National Policy Films,"'
in Wide Angle, vol. 1, no. 4 (1977); and to Paul Andrew's transla
tion of "On Kenji Mizoguchi," in Film Criticism^ vol. 4, no. 3
(1980).
Most of the essaysin this volume are taken from Nihon eiga shiso-
shi, which is also referred to as A Theoretical History of Japanese
Film, or as Thought and Image in Japanese Film, or as History of
the Intellectual Currents in Japanese Film. Part of Chapter 6 and the
Ozu section of Chapter 9 were taken from the author's Nihon eiga
no kyosho-tachi {^^The Masters of Japanese Film^^), while the section
on eye behavior in the films of Ozu and Naruse, Chapter 9,
was taken from his Katei noyomigaeri no tame ni—homu dorama-ron
{''For the Revival of the Home—Essays on Home Dramas''). This ap
peared in Cahiers du cinema, April, 1980, as "Le Point de regard,"
translated by Jean-Paul Lepape.
The author has also updated and rewritten some of these
essays. Chapters 1, 2, 12, and the Preface are new essays espe
cially written for this publication, as is the Chronology in Appen- 13
dix I.
Stills were selected by the author and are courtesy of the
Japan Film Library Council, Tokyo.
Both the author and the translator wish to thank Donald Richie
for all his help and useful suggestions.

Notes: In the first reference to a film, the Japanese title is given in

parentheses after the title in English; all subsequent references have
only the English title. The Index contains a listing of all films under
both their Japanese and English titles.
All personal names follow the Western order, i.e., with the surname
last.
The Two Leading Men
in Japanese Film

Maple Viewing {Momijigari, 1899), the oldest extant print of a

Japanese movie, is a filmed performance of a Kabuki play with
the same title. It was originally made only to record the per
formances of the most famous Kabuki actors of the day, Danjuro
Ichikawa and Kikugoro Onoe, although after some years it
was given a public showing. At that time film was considered a
low-class show, inappropriate for appearances by the proud
leading stage actors. However, since Kabuki was the most popular
form of drama, early film producers considered using its actors
and filming its repertoires just as they were, and so they scouted
for suitable second- and third-ranking actors.
For a Kabuki actor, the label "second-ranking" or "third-
ranking" does not necessarily denote that his performances are
§ poor. In the feudalistic Kabuki world, onlythe natural or adopted
^ son of a top-ranking actor affiliated with a famous school can
§ ever aspire to play the main role at a leading theater. Conse-
w quently, ambitious actors who lacked suitable connections aban-
§ doned Kabuki and turned to the film world, where they could
^ earn more than the leading Kabuki actors. In this way the forms
^ of Kabuki, along with its two types of leading roles and even its
§ onnagata—actors who played female roles—were introduced
CO . , .
into early cinema.
2 The actor who plays the main lead in Kabuki is called tateyaku
w ("standing role") and, as a rule, he heads the troupe. The char-
> acters he plays are noble, idealized samurai, warriors who are
not only victorious in fights but also sagacious men, with a strong
will and determination to persevere. However, because men of
this breed were educated according to Confucian morals, which
placed no value on romantic love, such a character was never
permitted to place his love for his wife or sweetheart above loyalty
toward his lord. This was one of the fundamental principles of
Bushido, the code of behavior of the warrior.
Although the Bushido code and the Western code of chivalry
were both idealized forms of conduct in which honor and courage
were esteemed, in one important aspect they differed significantly.
In the Western code loyalty toward the lady one worshiped was
valued more highly than loyalty toward one's lord, and medieval
tales of chivalry abound in love triangles involving a knight and
the wife of his lord or in a knight's rebellion against the lord to
protect the honor of the lady in question. Such situations may lie
at the root of the concept of Western individualism, where not
even the nation can obstruct the rights of the individual. On the
other hand, such situations were impossible in the tales of
Bushido. There, a noble samurai (performed by the tateyaku)
would sacrifice his wife and children out of loyalty toward his
lord and, despite his inner pain, would watch them die without
betraying the slightest emotion.
Such were the heroes in Kabuki, and the stylized forms of a
tateyaku performance were refined through the centuries to pre
sent an ideal image of the samurai, an image, however, that
was not meant to entertain these ascetic warriors themselves—at
best seven percent of the population of feudal Japan—who looked
upon Kabuki as gaudy, even erotic entertainment and refrained ^
from frequenting its theaters. Kabuki's main source of support ^
was the merchant class in the cities of Edo (modern Tokyo) and ^
Osaka, and it developed according to their view of the world. ^
While the merchant class recognized the tateyaku^s samurai as S
an ideal of manhood, the audience, especially women, was not o
completely satisfied simply because the tateyaku never fell in love. ^
The wives and daughters of these merchants, as well as the geisha ^
who catered to them and the women who ran the geisha houses §
and restaurants, held another ideal—a man who could whisper g
sweet words of love. Accordingly, Kabuki evolved the nimaime ^
("second"), so named because the actors playing the role were ^
given second billing to the tateyaku, ^
The nimaime had to be handsome, though not necessarily w
strong, pure in heart, though not necessarily clever. The purest H
type of nimaime was called tsukkorogashi ("feeble") because he gave ^
the impression of a frail, helpless fellow who would fall over if
nudged. The character played by the nimaime was always kind
and gentle toward the heroine, and when circumstances drove
her to suicide, he gladly died with her. The nimaime's big scene
is the michiyuki, when he walks together with the woman to the
place where they are to commit suicide. This scene is the cli
max of his performance and is filled with emotional facial ex
pressions and grand gestures. Ironically, however, it is often
his own imprudence or carelessness that prompts her decision,
for he then becomes socially unacceptable and she loses all hope
of a happy marriage with him. jy
The fact that the nimaime could never be as strong or as wise as
the tateyaku may be a manifestation of the inferiority complex
of the merchant class toward the samurai. Ideally, in feudal Japan
parents chose marriage partners for their sons and daughters, and
the couple concerned had no say in the matter. Although the
samurai rigidly maintained this system, the merchants, craftsmen,
and farmers were not so strict, and farmers were relatively free to
choose their wives. However, as the moral conduct of the ruling
samurai class was held in such esteem, even though the other classes
might sympathize with those who did not adhere to this strict
code, they could not approve of them. Noble human beings were
those strong, sagacious samurai played by the tateyaku, Nimaime^
g on the other hand, played characters who fell in love with geisha
^ and prostitutes and who, as a result of misconduct, such as
w misappropriating their master's funds, committed suicide with such
^ women. Thus, no matter how handsome they were, it was difficult
g to call them exemplary men. However, as they could love and as
^ they showed romantic love to be something beautiful, many of
^ them outdid the tateyaku in popularity and even respect.
§ The presence of these two completely different types of leading
w men in one play probably constitutes a tradition found only in
S Japanese drama. The hero of a Western drama, as a rule, is not
w only strong, intelligent, and active, but is also, if not a winner
> in love, a manly character who can act passionately for love.
This tradition was carried into movies, and Rudolph Valentino,
Jean Gabin, Gary Cooper, Clark Gable, and Laurence Olivier all
achieved fame playing such classic heroes. However, there were
also exceptions. John Wayne and Burt Lancaster played roles
similar to the tateyaku's, for they portrayed characters who were
strong and reliable but not suited to love scenes. On the other
hand, Gerard Philippe and Marcello Mastroianni played nimaime-
type roles, since they were seldom strong but enthralled audiences
with their love scenes. Nevertheless, these two types are never
so clearly separated in Western drama as in Kabuki.
The two types of leading men in Kabuki were inherited by
Japanese movies and continue to appear in them even today.
The first superstar Matsunosuke Onoe had been a tateyaku and the
head of a second-ranking Kabuki troupe that primarily toured the
jg provinces. Until 1926 he dominated the period drama genre,
meaning films set in history before the Meiji Restoration of
1868. He was discovered by the manager of a Kabuki theater in
Kyoto, Shozo Makino, who became Japan's first film director.
At first Onoe's film performances were straight from the Kabuki
repertoire, but Makino soon realized that a combination of Ka
buki material with a swordfighting climax and simple heroic
tales from kodan (historical stories recited by a storyteller) would
be more suitable for films than the complicated plots of Kabuki
plays. The resulting action thrillers were popular with audiences
then, who were mainly children and youths, and Onoe continued
playing the strong samurai in over one thousand films from 1908
to 1926.
 When the reign of Matsunosuke Once ended in the 19208, H
Tsumasaburo Bando, Denjiro Okochi, and other actors appeared w
to take up his mantle, and they continued to be popular right into ^
the 1950s. Like Onoe, most of them had been second-ranking O
Kabuki actors specializing in tateyaku roles. Although at times these 5
new stars and their young directors made films based on original o
scripts or adapted from modern novels with more complex themes g
and plots, the samurai remained the center of their dramas and ^
their performance was still that of a tateyaku. §
The fact that the onlyJapanese film actors to achieve an inter- g
national reputation today belong to that type further demonstrates ^
the appeal ofthe tateyaku. One such actor was Sessue Hayakawa, ^
who became a starin the 1910s by presenting a faithful imitation ^
of the tateyaku performance in American movies. Like the loyal «
samurai who allows his own wife and children to be killed, 3
Hayakawa hardly ever changed his facial expression and showed g
his intense inner emotions only by slight eye movements. In the
West this was considered an original acting style and quite a
departure from the conventional grandiose gestures employed as
a means of filling the silent screen. Later it led French film
theorists to conclude that a close-up of a slight change in facial
expression was the most powerful means of cinematic expression.
Another actor, Toshiro Mifune, who became famous through
Kurosawa's samurai films in the 1950s and 1960s, is also a classic
example of the tateyaku. Since his debut in 1947 he has appeared
in approximately one hundred and twenty films; however, as far
as I remember, he has only played three or four love scenes, in
which he was so terribly miscast that they are a clear case of
the exception proving the rule.
Although neither Hayakawa nor Mifune had any connection
with Kabuki, they had unconsciously assimilated the facial ex
pressions and bearing of the tateyaku, appearing like the samurai
of old in their performances. To the modern Japanese this fre
quently seemed anachronistic and overtheatrical; however, in
Western eyes these actors became splendid representatives of the
samurai tradition.
Despite the appeal of the tateyaku, women viewers in the early
days of cinema, like their counterparts in feudal Japan, needed
a romantic interest. This was supplied by the contemporary
g drama genre, meaning films set after the Meiji Restoration ofl868
^ which developed around thenimaime. As period drama evolved from
§ Kabuki, so contemporary drama evolved from Shimpa. Shimpa,
^ a new drama form with contemporary plots, came into being
§ around 1890 as a potential replacement for Kabuki, whose feu-
^ dalistic forms were no longer capable of reflecting the mores of a
^ modernizing Japan. However, Shimpa's early form—consisting
§ of the tateyaku, the nimaime, and the omagata, or female imper-
w sonator, roles—was inherited from Kabuki. From 1900 to the mid-
2 1920s Shimpa was the most popular form of drama. However,
w because of its antiquated forms, it was replaced in the 1920s by a
> new school, shingeki (modern drama). With texts and techniques
directly imported from the West, shingeki primarily aimed at
realism and became the mainstream ofJapanese drama from the
1930s on.
The first contemporary drama films were made at Nikkatsu's
Tokyo studio in the 1910s with Shimpa actors, including onnagata,
playwrights, and directors, and they were simply film presenta
tions of the Shimpa repertoire. The great majority of Shimpa
plays are love tragedies, the most common subject matter being
stories about handsome but undependable nimaime and the sweet
hearts who suffer on their account. Sample plots are: a geisha is
loved by a rich young man, but they cannot marry simply because
she is a geisha; a pure-hearted country girl loves a youth who so
yearns for life in the city that he abandons her while she is preg
nant, returning after having become a failure.
2q a major innovation took place in the early 1920s when actresses
took over the roles of the onnagata. This departure from tradition
occurred in contemporary drama because, unlike the tateyaku-
dominated period drama, the love scenes were central, and no
matter how adeptly the female impersonators were made up,
they appeared grotesque in film when their Adam's apples showed
in close-ups.
The first to notice this discrepancy were the intellectual youths
who frequented foreign film theaters. In those days of strict sexual
segregation, theaters that showed foreign films were the only
places where young men could gaze at the faces of beautiful
women, "real" women who possessed immense sex appeal. When
these intellectuals started making movies in the 1920s they not
only abandoned the primitive method of simply shooting a ^
stage play from start to finish, using instead the more cinematic ^
method of a series of short takes, but also did away with the ^
onnagata, ^
Considering the tenacity of tradition, the complete changeover w
to actresses occurred within the short span of a few years. After d
success in contemporary drama actresses were also adopted in ^
period drama. At first onnagata were simply the result of a govern- ^
mental ban against using actresses in the seventeenth century, §
when Kabuki began, since actresses also worked as prostitutes, g
However, this abnormal practice soon came to be accepted and ^
developed into a highly stylized artistic form. The onnagata was ^
said to be more erotic than a real woman because his perfor- §
mance emphasized the elements that men thought characteristic w
of femininity, such as gentleness, frailty, shyness, coquetry. Still, 3
his acting was only a crystallization of the consciousness of bygone ^
days, and since he was limited to a few set, exaggerated types
of women, his disappearance gave Japanese film the chance
to proceed in the direction of realism, for actresses could better
express the problems of contemporary women. This gave some
directors the opportunity to create new heroines, which in turn
affected the delineation of the nimaime character.
One of the first film actresses was Kumeko Urabe, still an ama
teur when she appeared in Minoru Murata's Seisaku's Wife {Seisaku
no Tsuma, 1924), a film which marked the appearance of a new,
forceful heroine. The story of this masterpiece in early contem
porary drama is as follows. 21
Seisaku, an earnest youth, is expected to become a future vil
lage leader. One day Okane, a young woman with an unfortunate
past, returns to the village. She had once been the mistress of a
rich man in a far-away town, and is thus spurned by all the vil
lagers except Seisaku, who does not hold her past against her.
Consequently, she falls madly in love with him and the two get
married, much to the consternation of the villagers, who think
he has been debauched by her. When the Russo-Japanese War
begins, Seisaku enlists as a soldier. He is wounded and returns
home, but when his wounds are healed and he is ready for the
front again, Okane, unable to bear the thought of being left an
object of prejudice in the village, blinds Seisaku with a hairpin
o to prevent his going. She is arrested and sent to prison. Upon
^ her release some years later, Okane apologizes to the embittered
W Seisaku and then commits suicide by jumping into a river. When
H Seisaku learns of her death, the grudge he bears her for blinding
g him turns to love and pity, and he sorrowfully drowns himself
7-' in the same river.
^ Seisaku is an earnest youth, handsome and kind, but he is not
§ strong enough to make the woman he loves happy, and the most
W he can do for her is to follow her in death. Thus, Seisaku is clearly
Q a role for the nimaime. Although Murata worked in shingeki, not
§ Shimpa, the brilliant re-creation of the nimaime-typc lead in his
> film is one example of how strong tradition can be. However, the
forceful heroine, who committed the terrible act of blinding a
soldier about to go to the front, was a definite break with tradi
tion, and because of her action, Seisaku^s Wife can be viewed as
Japan's first antiwar and antimilitarist film, in spite of its weak
nimaime-ty^t lead.
Kenji Mizoguchi, a young colleague of Murata at Nikkatsu
studio, where Seisaku's Wife was produced, made similar films.
Two of his masterpieces, Osaka Elegy {JSfaniwa Ereji^ 1936) and Sis
ters of the Gion [Gion no Shimai^ 1936), were about unfortunate
young women who were capable of decisive action, thereby out
shining their undependable nimaime-ty^c men. However, before
Mizoguchi could advance that far, he had first to transcend his
own background. Born to a poor family, he was forced to work at
an early age, but either through his ego or his lack of volition, he
22 could not hold down any job for long. Whenever he was out ofa
job, his older sister, a geisha who became the mistress of an aris
tocrat, bolstered his spirits and helped him find a new job. When
he went to a fine arts school to study painting, she even sent him
money. In short, Mizoguchi himself was a weak and undependable
young man, protected by an unfortunate woman full of love for
him, and, because of his good looks, was pursued by scandal when
prostitutes and the like fell in love with him.
Mizoguchi's own nimaime-ty^^ character resulted in his making
movies centering around the nimaime at Nikkatsu, which spe
cialized in Shimpa films. Eventually, however, he succeeded in
creating modern, realistic films within the fundamental structure
of Shimpa by not sentimentalizing the nimaime characters and
criticizing their defects of personality and thought. While por- g
traying them as worthless fellows unable to make their women w
happy, at the same time he endowed his heroines with strong ^
characters. The nimaime were flustered by the heroines' violent ^
Stance on discrimination against women, which was so different w
from Shimpa heroines, who always pined after the nimaime and o
went together with him toward their tragic finale. Mizoguchi's g
heroines stopped pining, pushed the weaklings aside, and ad- ^
vanced on their own. At these times they had an appeal that §
had not existed in former heroines. g
One example is the heroine of My Love Burns {Waga Koi wa ^
Moenuy 1949), although her male lead was not a nimaime type. ^
The film is based on the autobiography of Eiko Fukuda, a female ^
revolutionary in the latter part of the nineteenth century, who w
falls in love with and marries Kentaro Oe, the leader of an anti- 3||H
government movement. Although Oe's democratic views mark g
him as politically progressive, he retains the feudalistic attitude
toward women and feels no qualms about taking a mistress. When
Eiko learns of this she loses hope in him and furiously attacks
him; after their divorce, she goes on to fight for women's rights.
In the conventional dramaturgy of Japanese theater and
cinema, the political leader Kentaro Oe should have been played
commandingly by a tateyaku type of actor. However, Mizoguchi
cast Ichiro Sugai—an actor who often played villains—in the role
and portrayed Oe as an enemy of women, a man who only puts
on the grand airs of a tateyaku. Here Mizoguchi, who sides with
women as the victims of discrimination, attacks both the weak- 23
ness of the nimaime and the arrogance of the tateyaku. Thus, al
though he started out making Shimpa films, he eventually de
stroyed that world from the inside.
Despite this, contemporary drama as a whole did not change
much and in the more popular films the nimaime was still treated
sentimentally and the heroine still pined at home. In 1938 The
Compassionate Buddha Tree {Aizen Katsura)^ a love melodrama in
volving a nurse and a doctor, who is the son of the owner-ad
ministrator of a big, modern hospital, broke all previous box-
office records. As the heroine is both a widow with a child and
a nurse, the young doctor's parents will not permit their marriage.
Although she stops working at the hospital and he leaves home
g with the intention of marrying her, various misunderstandings
^ and accidents keep them apart. Since the audience is constantly
^ kept on tenterhooks by the lovers' near-encounters that are
^ foiled by chance, this kind of film was called sure chigai melodrama
§ —sure chigai literally meaning "to brush past someone," that is,
^ just missing meeting someone.
^ The hero and heroine do not force the issue but wait for the day
§ his parents will allow their marriage. Thus, they can be kept
w apart indefinitely, and the story was so popular it became a trilogy
Q with repeatedly broken rendezvous. The pining heroine was
w played by Kinuyo Tanaka (who would later play the fighter for
> women's rights in Mizoguchi's My Love Burns). Her romantic
lead. Ken Uehara, was the most popular nimaime actor of con
temporary drama in the 1930s. A classic example of the weak,
gentle beau, he certainly did not give the impression of a man
who would overcome all obstacles to win the woman he loved.
After World War II another classic sure chigai melodrama,
What Is Your Name? {Kimi no Na wa, 1953) broke the previous
box-office record set by The Compassionate Buddha Tree. Its male
lead, Keiji Sada, who thereafter became extremely popular,
usually had an apologetic expression on his face, as if he were
chastizing himselffor his lack of drive to make the woman he loved
happy. From the 1960s on sure chigai virtually ceased production
because of the social changes incurred by a soaring economy,
and forebearance and sentimentality were no longer regarded as
noble attributes.
24 As we have said above, contemporary drama developed with
its Shimpa-like nimaime^ and period drama with its Kabuki-like
tateyaku. Although there were some exceptions (such as period
drama star Kazuo Hasegawa, who was a nimaime type, and some
nimaime actors who became tateyaku types as they aged), in general
this division held and was reinforced by geographical location. Ever
since the establishment in 1912 of Nikkatsu, which maintained
one studio in Kyoto for period dramas and one in Tokyo for
contemporary dramas, the other major film companies—Shochiku,
Toho, Daiei—followed suit, and until around 1960 they all showed
a new double feature with one film from each genre at their theaters
every week. Kyoto, with its old architecture, was the center of
traditional culture, while Tokyo was the vanguard of Westernized
culture. Thus, period and contemporary dramas developed with ^
completely different actors, actresses, scriptwriters, and directors, w
When Toho began shooting both genres at its Tokyo studios in the ^
1940s the situation started to change. Finally, all distinction was ^
erased in the 1970s, when period drama lost its popularity, and w
even Kyoto studios became almost entirely involved with contem- o
porary drama. Still, the sense ofcompetition between Kyoto and ^
Tokyo film-makers in the two main genres was a driving force ^
behind developments in Japanese film, especially when directors §
made crossovers into different genres. g
Mizoguchi isone example. Born in Tokyo, helearned the dram- ^
aturgy of Shimpa at a Tokyo studio. When his studio was de- ^
stroyed by the Great Kanto Earthquake of 1923, he was forced ^
to go to Kyoto, where he continued his work. He feared that w
Kyoto's traditional atmosphere would affect his progressive films, 2
but the opportunity to work in Tokyo did not arise. And so he
eventually made one of his greatest contemporary dramas. Sisters
of the Gion^ in Kyoto. In it Mizoguchi denounced the survival of
old traditions in modern times, thus stimulating a trend toward
realistic films in Tokyo studios, which tended to imitate modern
American movies as an escape from reality.
Another example is Kurosawa, also born in Tokyo, who spe
cialized in making contemporary drama films at a Tokyo studio.
In 1948 a strike forced him to move to Kyoto, where he filmed
his epoch-making period drama Rashomon {Rashomon, 1950). At
that time, Kyoto's period drama productions still relied heavily
on the absurd, outmoded, stylized mannerisms of Kabuki, but 25
Kurosawa's Rashomon showed no Kabuki influence, and its success
afforded other directors opportunities to try similarly ambitious
experiments.
New developments also occurred on some occasions when a
tateyaku actor appeared in a contemporary drama, for he possessed
an aura of dignity the nimaime lacked. On the other hand, in the
tateyaku^% own genre, this bearing often obstructed progress. A
tateyaku^^ majestic demeanor was reared on years of experience
playing such noble roles, and even offstagea Kabuki tateyaku behav
ed much like a feudal lord. Thus, second-ranking Kabuki actors
who turned to period drama demanded special treatment from
studio personnel. With the exception of a few major directors, no
g one could tell them what to do, and since they assumed they knew
^ their public best, they would never abandon a pose or facial
^ expression that had proven popular in the past, and even forced
^ their own formulas on scriptwriters and directors. Therefore, the
g vast majority of period drama pictures did not vary greatly from
^ Kabuki and were merely cherished vehicles of feudalistic thought.
^ The story of the samurai who sacrificed his family out of loyalty
§ toward his lord was ubiquitous in the 1910s and the 1920s, and
w in the militaristic 1930s the theme of loyalty was purposefully tied
2 to the nation. Although feudalistic themes were prohibited by the
w U.S. Occupation forces from 1945 to 1952, period drama was re-
> vived in its original form as soon as the Occupation was over.
The movie-going public supported period drama stars who
played strong, loyal samurai. While Japan appeared as an ex
tremely dangerous, brutal nation to the West, both militaristic
and aggressive from 1900 to 1945, in Japanese eyes it was the
Western imperialistic powers that were dangerous and brutal, for
they had colonized most of Asia up until the end of the previous
century. The Japanese believed that Japan was the only na
tion in Asia resisting them, and, therefore, Japan had to be strong.
Consequently, they applauded these period drama tateyaku^ seeing
them as idealized images of strong Japanese. Viewed in this light,
the resurrection of period drama after the Occupation was prob
ably not so much a restoration of feudal thought as a continua
tion of the old fear—namely, that postwar Japan's weakness
would continue unless the will and pride of the samurai was
20 preserved.
As Japan rose to become one of the world's most affluent
countries in the 1960s, the Japanese gradually shook off their old
inferiority complex toward the West. As a reflection of their new
standing in the world, period drama declined and only a few were
produced in the 1970s. They were still made for television, but
the days when they constituted almost half the total movie pro
duction had passed.
Two popular tateyaku stars who made crossovers from period
drama to contemporary drama in the 1940s were Tsumasaburo
Bando and Denjiro Okochi. Tsumasaburo Bando, a period drama
star since 1924, was cast in Inagaki's contemporary drama The
Life of Matsu the Untamed {Muho Matsu no Issho, 1943), giving
the best performance in his entire career. Playing a ricksha man, ^
he exhibited a pride not inferior to that of a samurai, which was ^
an innovation then because such spirit had not previously been ^
associated with the poverty-ridden, uneducated lower classes. ^
Although Inagaki won the Venice Grand Prix with his 1958 w
remake of this film, with Toshiro Mifune in the lead, Mifune's per- o
formance did not even approach Bando's. ^
Denjiro Okochi became a period drama star around the same g
time as Bando. In one of Hiroshi Shimizu's masterpieces, Mr. §
Shosuke Ohara {Ohara Shosuke-san, 1949), Okochi played a powerful g
landowner who, in the liberal land reforms of the Occupation, ^
had to turn most of his land over to his tenant farmers for vir- ^
tually no compensation. Incidentally, these were the biggest ^
democratic reforms in postwar Japan, but they were enforced w
without the slightest turmoil. In fact, their success probably 3
prevented a revolution because through them poor tenant farmers ^
could hope to become affluent, independent farmers. Unlike the
landowners who had meekly borne their downfall, the unper
turbed Mr. Shosuke Ohara never lost his composure and con
cealed the tragedy of his ruin with rich humor. Only a top-ranking
tateyaku like Okochi, who had played strong, reliable samurai for
years, could have given such a splendid performance.
Actors nurtured in contemporary drama usually played mod
ern Japanese who, out of a sense of inferiority, discarded the
traditional life-style for a more Western one, and thereby became
mediocre and imitative. Furthermore, they were often nimaime
types who were permitted to assume a weak and undependable 27
attitude. Consequently, although many of these contemporary
drama actors were superb at expressing delicate psychological
nuances, it was hard for them to assume the grand demeanor of
period drama stars like Bando and Okochi or to play a character
like Mr. Shosuke Ohara, a man who could take sweeping reforms
in his stride.
Bando and Okochi preserved the good side of the samurai-like
personality in the postwar era. At that time many Japanese were
disillusioned by the prewar excesses committed in its name and
considered it useless and ridiculous, thereby becoming so humble
and servile that they lost their old pride. Novelist Yukio Mishima
was so revolted by this lossthat his 1972 harakiri^ the samurai way
g of committing suicide, can be viewed as an act of a man who grew
^ up in an age oftoo much samurai spirit reacting negatively against
^ an age with too little.
^ Kurosawa was a director who not only preserved the positive
§ side of the samurai-like personality but also achieved a major
^ reform in Japanese film when he skillfully combined the majestic
^ tateyaku character and performance with stories that had universal
§ appeal. Before Kurosawa non-Japanese .audiences found the
w tateyaku in films too overbearing, unlike in Kabuki, where his role,
2 along with that of the nimaime^ could be viewedas a mode of classical
w Japanese theater. Most of the previous tateyaku characters were
> men who were strong and noble out of feudal loyalty and duty.
This was not the case with Kurosawa's tateyaku, for Kurosawa
himself had rebelled against such feudal concepts by participating
in illegal communist activities as a youth. However, as the son of a
soldier, he affirmed the ideal of samurai strength, and these two
sides to his personality eventually led him to create a new ideal
ofJapanese manhood.
The core of the theme that Kurosawa ceaselessly pursued was
probably ''manliness," in the sense of a strong man trying to
live bravely to the very end. This can be seen in all his films except
for The Most Beautiful [Ichiban Utsukushiku, 1944) and No Regrets
for Our Youth [WagaSeishunni Kui Nashi, 1946), where women took
the lead. Even these heroines, however, were brave in a manly
sense and had a stronger sense of responsibility than many men.
The first element in Kurosawa's "manliness" is simply physical
28 strength. In Sanshiro Sugata {Sugata Sanshiro, 1943), Sanjuro {Tsubaki
Sanjuro, 1962), and Dersu Uzala [Dersu Uzala, 1975), for example,
strong men act admirably with pride. Whether their strength lies
in judo, a quick draw of the sword, or the abilities forged through
the hardship of life in a Siberian forest, Kurosawa's heroes all
have a powerful desire to make themselves strong by continuing
to train in some skill or technique. In Kurosawa's films, even a
character who at first sight appears mediocre and insignificant can
be transformed into a strong human being. This strength is
spiritual rather than physical, and this forms the second element of
Kurosawa's "manliness." Ikiru {Ikiru, 1952) is a fine example. The
main character is a mediocre bureaucrat approaching old age,
a man who leads a humdrum existence, going about his job out of
force of habit. ''You can't call this living," he is told. When this ^
official learns he has cancer and has only six months to live, he ^
eventually finds a purpose in life by working for the benefit of ^
others and goes to his death contented. ^
In order to portray such characters of strength, Kurosawa w
persistently created forceful cinematic images and thus brought to O
film a novel version of the majestic performance of the tateyaku. ^
If it was merely a matter of the main character appearing strong, ^
the film would be no more than an action movie or a lecture on §
nobility no matter how much he raged, or how much spirit g
and sense ofjustice he had. The strength of Kurosawa's characters ^
is overwhelming not only because of their nobility but also be- ^
cause thefilm images arepermeated withpower and majesty. There §
is no single scene that appears to be shot haphazardly or whim- w
sically and all his cinematic images are packed tight with no slack. 3
Powerful scenes cannot be produced without impassioned ^
acting, and Kurosawa's thoroughness in forcing intense perfor
mances out of his actors paid off. In this respect he is excep
tional, and only Mizoguchi, in a certain number of films, can
be compared with him. However, while Mizoguchi squeezed all
he could out of his actors and actresses at the expense of scenic
depictions ("You can't make a flower perform"), Kurosawa made
not only the players perform but also the wind, rain, and fog.
In Rashomon the pelting rain itself is as eloquent as an actor
at evoking feelings seething in the breast of the director. It is a
rain of rage and also of holy water that washes away the sins of
human beings. In Yojimbo {Tojimbo, 1961), the dry wind that 29
shrouds the post town in dust seems to be murderous in its inten
tions. In Throne of Blood{Kumonosujo^ 1957), after the main charac
ter loses his way in the fog and rides aimlessly on horseback in the
forest, the fog suddenly lifts to reveal his castle, an expression of
his suddenly coming to his senses after wandering in the darkness
of his heart. Kurosawa could have used artificial smoke for the
fog, but to show it clearing up he needed real fog. So, on the
slopes of Mt. Fuji he had his camera crew wait for days to shoot
the fog actually lifting from the castle set.
Kurosawa even went so far as to make the sun perform. In
Stray Dog {Mora Inu, 1949), the midsummer heat becomes an im
portant element in the drama, and the intense sun is like a leading
0 actor. The hand-held-camera shot of it through the reed blinds of
^ the black market stalls is riveting. The sun is also a leading
g player in Rashomon. While the heroine (Machiko Kyo) is resisting
^ the embraces of the bandit in a grove, she opens her eyes wide and
g stares at the powerful beams of sunlight, a realistic mirroring of
^ her agitated state of mind.
>
w
C/3
W

>

30
The Influence
of Foreign Films

One quality that distinguishes modern Japan lies in the fact that
both traditional culture and imported Western culture coexist,
whether ingenuously or awkwardly. The two are mixed, however,
in such a complicated fashion that it is difficult even for the
Japanese to distinguish between them.
As I explained in Chapter One, the two main genres ofJapanese
film are period drama, which started from Kabuki and developed
more sophisticated themes, and contemporary drama, which began
with Shimpa and developed a more modern realism. Although
competition between these two genres, and the subsequent cross
over made by actors and directors from one genre to the other,
was a fundamental force behind its development, thfe influence
of foreign films is also a major factor to consider. As the West was
g literally far away, foreign films presented a stimulating and rare
^ opportunity for Japanese to make contact with Western civili-
^ zation, and Western ways of life were a continual source of sur-
^ prise and envy, particularly for young intellectuals opposed to
g the feudalistic anachronisms of their own society. In these films
they felt they could actually see free human beings and a free
^ society, where women were appealing simply because of their
§ activeness, unlike Japanese film heroines who usually behaved
w like obedient dolls.
G Foreign films have been imported since the very early days of
w Japanese cinema and their influence on Japanese film-makers was
> considerable. In the 1920s some Japanese films were modeled after
German expressionist films, and films from Denmark and Germany
stimulated the development of a domestic, everyday kind of real
ism. In the 1930s respect for the psychological realism of French
films encouraged film-makers to inject a delicate psychological
nuance into their work. Even Soviet films of the 1920s and 1930s,
which were either heavily cut or banned on account of strict
political censorship, had a large following among enthusiastic
students, who filled in the gaps through books and magazines.
Thus Eisenstein's montage theory came to exert a strong influence
on the leftist "tendency films" {keiko eiga) popular around 1930,
and resulted in a fad for an extreme style of editing. The neorealism
of Italian films also had a certain, though not necessarily strong,
effect, since their subject matter of social problems and their
documentary style had already been experimented with in Japanese
32 films of the 1930s.
However, the films that had the most profound influence on
the Japanese public and film-makers alike were the prewar Ameri
can films. Although Japanese scholars and statesmen had more
esteem for the civilizations of Germany, England, and France
than that of the United States, many youths detested the oppressive
atmosphere of their authoritarian society and longed for the liberal
spirit seen in American movies. Until around the late 1940s
it was common practice to model Japanese films on prewar
American hits, especially Ernst Lubitsch's The Marriage Circle,
\924:,^vdiuk^orz?igt's Seventh Heaven, 1927, F. W. Murnau's
1927, Edmund Goulding's GrandHotel, 1932, Josef von Sternberg's
The Docks of New York, 1928, and Frank Capra's Lady for a Day,
1933. Even Kurosawa claimed he got his idea for the love story H
of One Wonderful Sunday {Subarashiki Nichiyobi^ 1947), depicted W
amid the bombed-out ruins in Tokyo right after the war, from an S
old D. W. Griffith film. §
It was not merely the glamor or the affluent life-style ofprewar ^
American movies that attracted the Japanese audience. What g
they envied most were the heroes and heroines, who were ordinary O
people, the love stories, and the American freedom of spirit.
The initial influence came from the popular American "Blue- §
bird" movies of the 1910s, one ofthe many labels used by Uni- g
versal Studios in its sales distribution. Although regarded as B- ^
grade and now almost forgotten in America, these sentimental p
love stories that portrayed the daily life of poor but honest people %
appealed to the Japanese because of their homeliness and lyricism,
and because of the similar social conditions shown. America, like
Japan, was then undergoing rapid industrialization, and the films
portrayed the unease of the farmers as well as the spiritual beauty
of their lives in contrast to the iniquity of the cities. Eventually,
Japanese film-makers of the 1920s and 1930s, influenced by these
and other foreign films, turned to comedies and tragedies about
farmers and average city-dwellers, a definite advance on the
samurai period dramas and Shimpa melodramas.
One such director was Yasujiro Ozu, who, ever since he
set eyes on Thomas H. Innes's Civilization (1916), became so ab
sorbed in American movies that he failed to enter college and got
a job with a studio. Since most of the films he had seen were
American, his first film in 1927 as well as some later works were
33
based on ideas from American movies. With Passing Fancy [De-
kigokoro, 1933) and A Story of Floating Weeds {Ukigusa Monogatari^
1934), influenced by The Champ (1931) and The Barker (1928),
respectively, Ozu established a new film genre which accurately
portrayed the life of Japan's lower classes.
In those days Japanese audiences preferred American love
stories because of their optimism and cheerfulness, so different from
European films, where the themes were more gloomy. The inevi
tably happy ending was both a source of hope and envy, and a re
freshing contrast to Japanese films with their tragic endings, since
romantic love was regarded as immoral and frowned on.
What the American spirit of prewar films meant to the Japa-
§ nese was probably best summarized by the great director Man-
^ saku Itami (1900-46). In 1940, a year before the outbreak of
§ the Pacific War, he wrote ''The Life and Education of Movie
Actresses and Actors" {'^Eiga haiyu no seikatsu to kyoyo,'' from
§ Itami Mansaku zenshuy vol. 2), an essay on outside influences on
^ Japanese film. In those days it was said that the Japanese were
^ being contaminated by American movies, and Americanism was
§ pronounced as a source of frivolity and irresponsibility, a claim
W which Itami bravely refuted.
2 "The first thing we learned from American movies was a fast-
w paced life-style . . . the next, a lively manner and a readiness
> to take decisive action. Lastly, we learned to take an affirmative,
purposeful, sometimes even combative attitude toward life, and
to value dearly our pride as human beings, fearing no man—in
short, their first-class, tough philosophy on how to get on in the
world.
"[The latter was] the strongest and best influence on us . . .
It was also the moral upheld by all the main characters in their
narrative romances and probably represents the American spirit
at its best."
(This declaration was certainly courageous in 1940, in the
midst of an ultra-nationalistic campaign. Itami added the fol
lowing, mentioning the dangers of servile adulation of the power
ful groups who ran Japanese society as they pleased.)
"Unless chronic vices are destroyed one by one, a healthy nation
cannot be born. Moreover, I think that it was American movies
2^ that first gave us the opportunity to reflect upon our ingrained
customs and manners. In any American movie I can hear some
one crying out: Young man, be dauntless! Have more pride and
backbone! Subordinates, don't be servile! Don't flatter!"
The influence of American films even affected the dichotomy
of the tateyaku and the nimaime, and this can be seen in Ozu's
early films, where the young, cheerful heroes belong to neither
type and where the love scenes are portrayed with a sense of
humor. In period dramas the tateyaku were always dauntless men,
lacking neither pride nor backbone, but the nimaime of contem
porary dramas were too often sad and spiritless. Thus audiences
came to idealize actors who were strong and active and could
also play love scenes, men who combined the positive sides of the
tateyaku and the nimaime. In response to this demand the following ^
contemporary drama stars arose: Denmei Suzuki in the 1920s, ^
Shuji Sano, Shin Saburi, and Den Ohinata in the 1930s, and §
Yujiro Ishihara and Tatsuya Nakadai in the 1960s. ^
Of these Nakadai is probably the best example of this syn- §
thesis, particularly in Masaki Kobayashi's major work, The §
Human Condition {Ningen no Joken, 1959-61, 6 parts, running O
time: 9 hours), where he plays a man who undergoes an odyssey ^
of suffering because he refused during World War II to slave-drive ^
Chinese prisoners in Manchuria and treated them humanely, g
As a result he was sent to the most trying fronts and detained in ^
a Soviet P.O.W. camp after the war, from which he escapes, to p
die in a desolate, snowy terrain. In adverse situations this strong, ^
samurai-like man remembers his beautiful wife and, by calling
out her name, is able to endure his suffering. Nakadai's perfor
mance was a revolutionary transformation of the traditional Con
fucian dictum that a noble man does not love a woman.
To claim that this synthesis of the tateyaku and nimaime^ which
occurred in 1959, was due to postwar influence of American films
would be inadequate. The Occupation authorities, in order to
pave the way for democracy in Japan, prohibited period dramas
depicting feudalistic thinking and ordered films with liberal,
"enlightened" themes, even encouraging kissing scenes. American
movies, too, were imported in great numbers. However, this
conscious attempt at Americanization was only partially successful
and not completely necessary since after the Occupation the
feudalistic period drama was reinstituted. Even during the
Occupation, leftists, who had been banned from making films
with a social theme due to the cold war, continued to make them.
Love stories had been encouraged by the authorities, but film
makers wanted to produce them anyhow, even before they had
been restrained by the militarists from 1930 to 1945.
A good example is Mansaku Itami, who wrote the script for the
best movie of 1943, The Life of Matsu the Untamed, the story of a
ricksha man who, at the request of the widow of an army officer
he knew, helps to raise her son. Eventually, however, he realizes
his love for the widow and one day (in a scene cut by the censors)
reveals this to her, with the result that he is forced to leave for this
breach of propriety. This theme of the platonic love of a man of
§ low social standing for a noble lady is rare in Japanese theater
^ and literature before'1910 and is clearly the outcome ofAmerican
§ and European movie influence. Thus, it can be inferred that if
w not for the militarists, love stories would have developed smoothly
§ in prewar Japanese films and the postwar ''guidance" of the
^ Occupation authorities was not crucial.
^ The influence ofpostwar American films, while not crucial, was
§ certainly considerable. During the Pacific War from 1941 to 1945,
w when no new American movies were imported and the showing
2 ofoldones prohibited, schoolchildren were taught that Americans
w were inhuman devils. Thus, in 1946, when American films were
> seen again, the boys and girls of that generation were shocked to
find that Americans were human after all and seemed to have
higher ideals and to be happier than the Japanese. In order to
use such films as lessons in democracy, the U.S. authorities reg
ulated their showings in Japan during the seven years of Oc
cupation, and only those exhibiting the positive side of America
j were shown. Films that took up social problems were not im
ported, such as Gentleman's Agreement^ which dealt with prejudice;
All the King's Men, whose main character was a political dema
gogue; The Ox-Bow Incident, about lynching; The Grapes of Wrath,
in which the poverty of farmers was depicted. Moreover, from 1941
to 1952, when the Occupation ended, most Hollywood movies
glorified democracy and the good qualities of the American way
of life, so obviously Japanese youths then thought of America
as the ideal country, a veritable heaven, economically, politically,
and spiritually. While a leftist minority assumed an anti-American
stance, the vast majority believed that their former enemies were
now their most respected friends.
I was about fourteen when the war ended. A year later, when
I saw the American movies His Butler's Sister and Madame Curie, I
was able to accept our defeat for the first time because I learned
that Americans were not devils, and I realized that Japan had suf
fered a moral defeat as well. Around this time Japanese directors,
and actors and actresses, who had been connected with militaristic
propaganda films during the war, were now making democratic
ones at the behest of the Occupation forces.
After 1945 Americanization advanced at an alarming rate. The
government was democratized and the economy eventually sur-
passed America's in some areas. One reason why this came about ^
so quickly is that thirty years ago Japanese boys made the startling w
discovery, through movies, that any American could own a car ^
and a refrigerator, and they endeavored to catch up. g
However, Americanization was by no means total. Even though §
the young Yasujiro Ozu mainly watched American movies and §
based some of his own films on American models, his works O
hcj
eventually bore no resemblance to them whatsoever, and he hj
became an original film-maker who can be considered purely §
traditional. Similarly, although modern Japan appears to be ex- S
tremely Americanized on the surface, in reality, it is still a society ^
with a completely different structure. The dichotomy of the two p
types of heroes also remains tenaciously. In films the tateyaku type ^
of character still enjoys great popularity, the only difference being
that the samurai is now replaced by a Mafia-type gangster.
The handsome, irresponsible nimaime type remains the current
favorite in television love stories and soap operas. Therefore,
Japanese movie fans, who are almost entirely young men who
prefer the tateyaku type, are completely different from television
audiences, who are mainly women. As women stopped going to
movie theaters, their idol, the nimaime, ceased to exist in films.
In spite of repeated attempts, from the 1930s to 1950s, to pro
duce a hero who synthesized the tateyaku and the nimaime as in
American films, the popularity of television only served to per
petuate this division.

37
Developments in
Period Drama Films

•s .
\

1. NEW HEROES
Over one hundred period dramas were produced every year from
the 1910s through the 1950s, with the exception of the 1940s
due to World War II and the Occupation. These tales of revenge
and loyalty centered around the old tateyaku-type hero and pre
served feudalistic sentiments and antiquated institutions. How
ever, in addition to Kurosawa's new postwar heroes mentioned
in Chapter One, a few new prewar hero types arose who were
not loyal toward their masters and who were central to refor
mative period dramas.

THE NIHILISTIC HERO: In 1923 Rokuhei Susukita's script

for the film Woodcut Artist (Ukiyoe-shi—Murasaki ^ukin) gave birth
to a new type of hero. Unlike the noble tateyaku type portrayed
by Matsunosuke Onoe, the hero of this film was a rebellious §
young samurai, cynical and rowdy. Moreover, the swordfighting ^
scenes, under the direction of Bansho Kanamori, bore no relation q
to Onoe's balletic movements inherited from Kabuki but were ^
modeled on American action movies, with speedy action and fast §
cutting. Critics called Susukita's heroes ''nihilistic outlaws," and oo
when the new star Tsumasaburo Bando began playing them in S
1924, the image of the suffering rebel alienated from his times ^
became firmly established. S
The first director to raise this genre to an avant-garde art form o
was Daisuke I to (1898-1981), who combined adept storytelling ®
with a rapid succession of images brimming with beauty and g
pathos, and the impassioned performance of his favorite lead, >
Denjiro Okochi. The most representative works portraying the 2
nihilistic hero were Ito's A Diary of ChujVs Travels (in three parts, ^
Chuji Tabi Nikki^ 1927) and Masahiro Makino's The Street of Mas-
terless Samurai [Ronin-gaiy 1928, original script by Itaro Yama-
gami). The outlaw heroes of these films shared the common trait
of being unable to make a respectable living and were thus driven
to extreme destitution. However, when cornered, they turned on
their pursuers, be they policemen or evil retainers of the shogun-
ate.

Apart from the influence of American action movies, these new

hero typeswere also the result of new developments in earlier works
of theater and popular literature. Lively, realistic swordfights
and a quasi-revolutionary outlaw had already appeared in 1919
in Shojiro Sawada's shinkokugeki ("new national drama") pro- gg
duction of Chuji Kunisada [Kunisada Chuji). Then in 1920 Kaizan
Nakazato's voluminous popular novel The Great Bodhisattva Pass
[Daibosatsu Toge) was adapted into a play and performed by
Sawada's troupe. The main character, Ryunosuke Tsukue, be
came the archetype of the nihilistichero and, like the outlaw Chuji
Kunisada, appeared subsequently in several movies.
Both Nakazato and Sawada had participated in movements,
dating from the Meiji period (1868-1912), that encouraged the
import of modern European thought. The former had experienced
setbacks as a socialist, and the latter belonged to geijutsuza ("The
Artistic Troupe"), which was heavily involved in the arts reform
movement. Driven underground by Japanese society, their mem-
g bers sought new ways of reaching the masses. One of these was
^ the popular historical novel, in which Nakazato excelled, and
w another was Sawada's reform of popular theater. When the two
converged in the theatrical adaptation of The Great Bodhisattva
g Pass^ a new swordfighting drama, or chambara^ was created and the
^ play was an instant commercial and critical success in 1920. One
^ main reason for its success then—it ran for three years—was its
§ accurate portrayal of the anguish of the times, reflected in the
w dark, gloomy atmosphere and violent scenes of slaughter.
G In those days when throngs of unemployed filled the streets
w and leftist ideas agitated the minds of the young, only a handful
> of young scriptwriters and directors were dedicated leftists, and
none of the period drama stars originally had any connection with
the leftist movement. However, the theme of rebellion of the op
pressed appealed to them because they were concerned about the
self-assertion of the alienated, especially since their occupation
caused them to be looked down on as social outcasts, in much
the same way that entertainers were traditionally disdained in
Japan. Therefore, their new period dramas can be considered as
a passionate appeal to and protest against the public at large,
and the nihilistic outlaws and misunderstood heroes as their
own reflections.
Although at times these young film-makers braved the censors
with an openly ideological film, they were more strongly attracted
to the rebel who was something of an anarchist, such as Ryuno-
suke Tsukue, the antihero of The Great Bodhisattva Pass. He ap-
4Q pealed to them because during the turmoil and upheaval preced
ing the Meiji Restoration of 1868, he sided with neither those
who wanted to restore the authority of the emperor nor the forces
that upheld the shogunate. He was simply a wanderer dedicated
to his skill as a swordsman. Similarly, when struggles between left
ists and rightists were common in the 1920s, these nihilistic film
makers sided with neither and lived solely for their craft.

THE FREE SPIRIT HERO: In 1932, in the face of social and

governmental oppression, nihilistic and leftist tendency films
ceased to be made. The underground Communist Party had just
about dissolved and leftist writers recanted their views in works
explaining their conversion. However, some liberal period dramas
were produced then. Despite the government's conservative policy ^
of ^'increasing economic wealth and strengthening the military" ^
{fukoku kyohei), which prevailed from the latter part of the nine- q
teenth century until 1945, many of the generation who came of ^
age in the relaxed years of the Taisho Democracy (1912-26) §
were liberal, and some openly flaunted their liberalism by making ^
films critical of militarism and feudalism in the 1930s. §
Examples of this, dating from 1932, are Peerless Patriot [Kokushi ^
Muso) by Mansaku Itami and Sleeping with a Long Sword {Dakine S
no Nagadosu) by Sadao Yamanaka, both period dramas being d
unique in that they contained no swordplay. The spirit of rebellion O
was not lost but only played down. Nihilism was replaced by an ^
advocacy of freedom portrayed in the resistance of common peo- >
pie to feudal authority, and by mockery of Bushido, the moral 2
system of the elite. ^
The leading liberal scriptwriter was Shintaro Mimura, who
had worked on many of the period drama masterpieces of the
1930s and who was to create a new hero, nonconforming and
free in spirit. During the Taisho period Mimura had participated
in the shingeki movement for modern, realistic drama by joining
Sojin Kamiyama's troupe of nonconformist actors and play
wrights, and was heavily influenced by their free spirit. His main
characters -wtrt yakuza (gangsters), who were usually small-time
gamblers, masterless samurai [ronin)^ petty villains, and itinerant
entertainers. These types had appeared before in nihilistic period
dramas, standing up to the establishment and even attacking it,
thereby assuming an important position in the vanguard of the 41
proletariat. Mimura, however, returned them to their appropriate
station of malcontents in an age of domestic tranquillity (set in the
Edo period from 1630 to 1850 but actually reflecting the so-called
Showa Restoration from 1933 to 1940), and gave free rein to their
impertinence by letting them brag and gripe to their hearts'
content.

Mimura did not admire yakuza and malcontents but saw in

them the possibility of gaining freedom by casting aside the
respectability attendant upon being a full-fledged member of
society, and he used them as vehicles of his own free-thinking
nonconformity. Before (and after) Mimura, yakuza heroes were
not "free" souls, but bound by a sense of obligation toward their
g boss or "elder brother," and the complex emotional ties that are
^ involved inthe concept ofgiri ninjo (see p. 50). Infact their behavior
^ was more restricted than the samurai's, and many masochists
among them felt that the stronger the restrictions the better they
g liked it. Mimura's yakuza heroes, on the other hand, were free
^ spirits who extricated themselves from such restrictions regardless
^ of their impression on others. A good example of one such hero
§ is Matahachi in Journey of a Thousand and One Nights [Matatabi
w Sen-ichiya, 1936).
2 This itinerant gambler, temporarily employed in the
w construction of a new residence for a feudal lord, makes the
> acquaintance of the lord's young son. In exchange for his ordinary
lunch of rice and pickled plums he gets a chance to ride the boy's
horse and thereupon gallops off. The search party sent after him,
formed of Matahachi's coworkers and some masterless samurai,
are led a merry chase by the reckless Matahachi, oblivious of
his obligations to his construction gang boss and fellow workers.
Matahachi belongs to a long line of wandering gamblers whose
adventures {matatabi mono, often based on the novels of Shin Hase-
gawa and Kan Shimozawa) formed a major subgenre in yakuza
movies since the late 1920s. They were often on the run because
of some good deed performed for the sake of the common people.
Unlike Matahachi, who simply made sport of the authorities, they
took up arms against them, thus revealing similarities to the ni
hilistic hero. However, they lacked audacity because they knew
the ways of the world too well. They seem to be saying that as
^2 common men it is above their station to talk about how society
should be. In contrast, Matahachi was neither humble nor sen
timental and his audacity is revealed when he addresses the young
lord as "leaky drawers" {shobendare),
Mimura's forte lies in the mood of good cheer that his dialogues
convey. Although the bad guys in his films are made fools of, they
do not get their just desserts, and in the e'nd it is his heroes who
are usually defeated. Still, even in defeat they continue to be in
high spirits, and thus they achieve the victory implied in the old
Japanese saying: To lose is to win {makeru ga kachi). They do
not cry over spilt milk, and by accepting defeat gracefully and
cheerfully, they have the advantage over their oppressors.
Mimura does not cloak his attitude in an antiestablishment
ideology but reveals it in the flavor of his dialogues, a flavor that g
combines the humanity of the common people with their sense ^
of style and taste. O
Although Mimura wrote for many directors, he had a greater ^
affinity with Hiroshi Inagaki, the director ofJourney ofa Thousand §
and One Nights, They both preferred sabotage to open rebellion
and protest, and this attitude is even evident in Festival Across the §
Sea {Umi o Wataru Sairei, 1941), a film they made when militaristic g
propaganda was predominant. At first the sole purpose of this 2
film seemed to be to present the lighthearted joy and exhilaration O
of a village festival, the transient feeling of well-being of the
common people. In the midst of the festival, however, the rough
necks who train the circus horses appear to harass the weaker en
tertainers. A masterless samurai currently doing a sword act in
the troupe comes to their defense, but he does not go on a tragic §
rampageas a nihilistic hero would. The roughnecks challenge him,
and he merely slips quietly oflT to engage them, never to return.
The ending resembles the last scene in Easy Rider^ where the heroes
are shot down by bigots. From Mimura's combination of exhila
ration at the film's start and pathos at its ending, we might assume
that had Mimura been a young man in the late 1960s, he would
probably have been a leader of the hippy culture.

MUSASHI MIYAMOTO-, Festival Across the Sea went against

the trend of the times, for a new current began in 1940 with the
release of Tomu Uchida's History {Rekishi)^ which was called a
historical movie rather than a period drama. Similar films ap- 43
peared in 1941, such as Kinugasa's The Battle at Kawanakajima
{Kawanakajima Kassen) and Mizoguchi's The Loyal 47 Ronin of the
Genroku Era {Genroku Chushingura), These historical movies did not
directly endorse militarism and can be considered progressive
because the directors adhered strictly to historical accuracy. How
ever, thematically they negated the antiestablishment and escap
ist tendencies of the nihilistic and liberal period dramas, stressing
instead the idea of compliance with the times and the theme
of the Japanese people as a fated, common body. They portrayed
individual destinies as mere ripples on the great wave of history.
In spite of the historical movie's tendency to dilute heroism
in period dramas, a new hero still arose in the person of Musashi
g Miyamoto, popular since the early 1940s. Most of the movies
^ about him are based on Eiji Yoshikawa's novel that was serialized
^ in the Asahi Shimbun newspaper from 1935 to 1939. Yoshikawa's
theme wassimply that refinement in the art of swordfighting equal-
5 ed spiritual development. As a simple man of the sword, Musashi
^ appeared to be the antithesis of intellectualism, but Yoshikawa's
^ portrayal of him had a great influence on the thinking of the
§ Japanese people because it was able to guide them through
w uncertainty during the years when Japan embraced fascism.
G Although Musashi never opposes the mores of society, he has
w no sense of social responsibility and is never moved to action for
> utilitarian purposes, or out of loyalty, like the old tateyaku type of
samurai. He only acts through his keen, but egoistic, desire for
self-development. Furthermore, his pursuit of perfection in sword
fighting continually leads him to perform the most antisocial act
of all, that of killing people. However, because of the supreme
danger he faces each time he tests himself, this killing was seen as
the most noble form of action, not an evil one, even though some
of his victims were not villains.
In Musashi's world the root of all evil is weakness, and only
the strong are noble in spirit and character. Ironically, his sweet
heart, the physically frail Otsu, provided the model of behavior for
the weak by performing everything to the utmost of her capa
bility. She thus gave courage to all those Japanese who, in
spite of their lack of strength, put on a bold face and went off
to the Sino-Japanese and Pacific wars. In those dark days both
44 the strong, who in reality were few in number, and the weak
calmly acknowledged their combined weakness. It was believed
that as long as there were those who, despite their weakness, were
willing to submit their all to the highest good, it was possible for
Japan to restore order to the world. This was a terrifying, savage
way of thinking and the exact opposite of humanism. However,
rooted in the darkest desires of people, it had the power to cap
tivate them at a time when the outer veneer of civilization was
being stripped away.

2. BUSHIDO
All Japanese movies were censored during the Occupation until
1949, and regulations concerning period drama were especially ®
severe. Swordfighting scenes were prohibited because they ran ^
counter to the aims of pacifism, and Chushingura, the perennial q
favorite, which would eventually be made into a movie about one ^
hundred times, was banned because it not onlyaffirmed feudalistic §
loyalty but also kindled a spirit of revenge through the victory of w
the loyal forty-seven retainers against the enemy of their dead lord. §
Even Kurosawa's The Men Who Tread on the Tiger's Tail [Tora ^
no 0 0 Fumu Otokotachi, 1945) was not released until 1952, perhaps S
because it was the story of a defeated general who escapes. The o
Occupation forces actively encouraged the production of films O
critical of feudal society, but as with the case of love stories, this >
was not entirely necessary since some directors had ventured in this >
direction during the prewar years in spite of censorship by the 2
Japanese government. ^
The first noteworthy period drama of the immediate postwar
era was Daisuke Ito's The Paltry Ronin Forces His Way Through
{Suronin Makaritoru, 1947). The film is based on the famous story
of the imposter Ten'ichibo, who tries to succeed to the shogunate
by claiming to be the son of a woman in the shogun's past. In Ito's
version, however, Ten'ichibo is depicted as a sympathetic young
man who avidly desires to meet his real father at least once. In
censed by the feudalistic system which would not grant this natural
wish, the hero, Iganosuke (Tsumasaburo Bando), comes to his
aid, knowing that in so doing he seals his own doom.
Since a swordfight climax was ruled out, Ito employed his forte
—the equivalent of the chase in American movies. Pursued by a
throng of lantern-carrying policemen, Iganosuke leaps from roof
top to rooftop. Just before his inevitable arrest he suddenly stops
running and, raising himself to his full height, a tragic figure
against the night sky, he glares down at the insignificant policemen
below, silencing them with his glance. The next instant, in a mar
velous display of showmanship, he turns and jumps adroitly,
landing in their midst.
The image of Bando in that single scene is far more important
than the criticism of feudalism in the whole film. At that moment
Bando becomes the epitome of a samurai, and his image is central
to my own idea of Bushido. This character is a true follower of
the way of the warrior because he gives no thought to personal
g gain and goes to hisdeath for a just cause. This isstrength, but not
^ one based only on physical prowess; this character also possesses
^ compassion and will never do anything disgraceful. These attri-
^ butes alone constitute an exemplary samurai even though the
§ classical element of loyalty [chusei) is not shown.
^ Another film, The Yotsuya Ghost Story {Totsuya Kaidan^ 1949),
^ made by Keisuke Kinoshita and based on the famous Kabuki
§ play, presents the other side of the coin and debunks the popular
w myth of the samurai. The main character, lemon, a destitute
G samurai, reluctantly murders his wife, Oiwa, so he can marry a
w rich merchant's daughter, only to be haunted by his wife and
> driven to suicide. Kinoshita's lemon is a much weaker character
than the role in the original play, and this is poignantly conveyed
in those memorable scenes where his repeated attempts to kill
Oiwa are thwarted by her trusting looks. Through the faint-hearted
lemon we are shown that samurai can also be reduced to trem
bling wrecks in certain situations despite the airs they assume in
positions of authority.
Masahiro Makino's A Horde of Drunken Knights (Yoidore Hachi-
man Ki^ 1951), a remake of his prewar masterpiece The Street of
Masterless Samurai, is also important because it demonstrates that
even shiftless ronin can maintain a warrior's code of honor. For the
sake of a woman and their own sense of pride the ronin engage
the retainers of the shogun in a bloody battle that recalls the dark
gloom of a prewar nihilistic film.
All these films are critical of feudalism, but their real emphasis
^0 lies not in presenting an age that has passed but in depicting
characters who find themselves in adverse situations and have to
cope, whether gallantly, ineptly, or desperately. Since this prob
lem can exist in any society, feudal or modern, such films formed
the core of postwar period drama and the main theme of many
of the genre's masterpieces in the 1950s and early 1960s. This
theme also appeared in prewar films, such as Hisatora Kumagai's
The Abe Clan [Abe Ichizoku, 1938), based on Ogai Mori's short
story, where its connection with Bushido is revealed much more
clearly.
The head of the Abe clan wants to commit self-sacrifice {junshi)
after the death of his lord because he had received favors from his
master during his lifetime. As his new lord won't permit this, he
abides by his wishes. However, his fellow samurai look down on O
him for being ''unfaithful," and, feeling disgraced, he commits <
suicide. The newlord regards this as an act of willful disobedience g
and punishes the whole family for it. The Abe sons, in turn, g
affronted by this, rise up to rebel against the lord, and the whole ^
clan, retainers included, are annihilated in the end.
In this film the absurdity of the feudal institution of self-im- g
molation upon the death of one's lord is exposed, and the bar- g
barity of samurai society is revealed in the ridiculing of a man 2
who is denied martyrdom. However, Japanese audiences were §
more impressed by the awe-inspiring manner in which the entire O
clan maintained its pride despite its absurd predicament and by >
the way the Abe sons relied on their sense of honor as samurai to >
face their inevitable doom. 13
During World War H, when I was a boy, we were taught that g
central to Bushido is loyalty and devotion toward one's superiors.
In The Abe Clan, which I saw after the war, it seemed that one's
sense of honor takes priority and must be maintained even at the
cost of abandoning this loyalty.
This sense of honor is not an attribute of the samurai class alone,
as we shall see in Mizoguchi's A Story from Chikamatsu {Chikamatsu
Monogatari, 1954). The young wife of a merchant and a clerk,
shocked by their master's false accusation of adultery (an affront
to their honor), run off together and bravely accept the fate of
crucifixion (the feudal punishment for adultery), rather than re
nounce their love. Their love affair is not a "handsome man meets
beautiful woman" encounter, however, for when they realize that
the merchant is their common enemy, the desire to fight him kin
dles a comradely affection that later blossoms into love. Although
they do not go through the exaggerated posturing of a warrior in
the same situation, their pride and honor are maintained through
their execution. The acceptance of public crucifixion is their act
of revenge because the disgrace of it brings about the downfall
of the merchant's house.
Nevertheless, it is usually easier to present the conflicts and
pressures involved in maintaining pride and honor if the central
character belongs to the samurai world. Furthermore, since pent-
up indignation usually erupts dramatically in a bloody, action-
packed swordfight, the audience can give vent to its own
^ frustrations. In fact, this is the real reason Japanese audiences
^ love the samurai in period drama—their appeal has nothing to
^ do with admirationfor the old rulingclass.
Proof of this rests in the fact that lords, or daimyo, and chief re-
§ tainers have seldom been portrayed as sympathetic characters.
^ More film heroes come from the ranks of lower samurai, with the
^ classless ronin^ who have no official status since they serve no
§ master, the most popular ofall. With the exception ofLord Asano
w in Chushingura, daimyo are hardly ever placed in a situation where
Q their honor is at stake. As for ronin^ however, while they possess
w the pride of samurai, they are usually as destitute as poor com-
> moners, and this disparity between their ideal and their reality
places them in situations where their pride and honor are most
subject to attack.
The most thoroughgoing treatment of this dilemma can be
found in Masaki Kobayashi's Harakiri {Seppuku, 1962). The story
is set in the Tokugawa period (1603-1868). A ronin, who calls
himself Hanshiro Tsugumo, appears at the Edo residence of the
lord of Hikone and requests the use of his courtyard to commit
ritual disembowelment since he is tired of the disgrace of having
to live in poverty. In those days this was a common ruse to obtain
money since the ronin would be paid to go away, thus preventing
gossip. The Hikone retainers, however, see the perfect oppor
tunity to punish those not worthy of the samurai name and so they
agree.
While preparations are being made for the ceremony in front
of an audience of Hikone retainers, Tsugumo requests that one
of their swordsmen be present to cut off his head after he has
pierced his own belly and begun the painful cut to the side. The
man is immediately sent for, but for some reason is unable to be
present. Tsugumo names two other retainers who are also sent
for but fail to appear. While everyone waits, Tsugumo relates
the story of his family.
He had once been a senior councillor of a lord, but the fief went
bankrupt through oppression from the shogunate. One of his
fellow samurai took responsibility for the bankruptcy and com
mitted harakiri, Tsugumo then assumed the care of his friend's
son, later giving the boy his own daughter in marriage. As this
young man is constantly in financial straits, he comes to the
Hikone residence one day and asks to be allowed to commit §
harakiri there, probably hoping for money. However, the Hikone ^
retainers decide they really want him to carry this out because q
they like true demonstrations of Bushido. g
When the young man hears this, he turns pale because he had §
already pawned his swords and wore only bamboo imitations. ^
His request to leave to collect his swords falls on deaf ears and in 5
the end he is forced to perform ritual disembowelment with the ^
short bamboo sword, killing himself eventually by biting off his S
own tongue. d
Tsugumo finishes his story by revealing why the swordsmen 2
he had requested could not attend. Outraged by this inhuman g
treatment of his son-in-law, he had secretly challenged each of >
the three men directly responsible and succeeded in cutting off 3
their topknots, a symbol of samurai status. Tsugumo then tosses ^
the three topknots onto the white sand of the courtyard. As he
has thus ridiculed all the Hikone retainers, there is no way for
him to leave the place alive. They come at him in droves, and
he cuts down several of them before his own death.
In this film we see the essence of samurai pride and honor, the
most important theme in period drama. Tsugumo had felt deeply
for his son-in-law, who had been placed in the predicament of
trying to commit harakiri with a bamboo sword. Worse than this,
however, was the fact that the Hikone retainers had not granted
him his request to leave to get real swords. Even after he had
given them his word as a samurai that he would return to carry
out this ritual act, they had looked down on him as a blatant liar,
a ronin completely devoid of the warrior spirit.
For Tsugumo, a samurai reduced to the status of ronin was still
a samurai. Although his son-in-law had disgraced himself by mak
ing such a request, he could not bear the thought that he had
been regarded as an outright fraud and beggar. He could not allow
this humiliation to go unpunished. For Tsugumo, this was the es
sence of Bushido.
As a rule, Japanese audiences do not find the ideal samurai as
appealing as the outcast, who is outside the confines of the ruling
class. A real samurai is one who struggles to maintain his pride
and honor, and thus real models from the samurai class are not
necessarily needed. People who have this spiritual quality and
§ find themselves in wretched straits are far more appealing, and
^ this isone reason for the popularity ofmovies about ^tViA^\.yakuz(l^
§ or outlaws.
So Takuza originate from the classes of farmers and craftsmen.
§ They become outlaws because they seek freedom from legal re-
^ straints, although they do conform to their own code of social order
^ based on ninkyodo, a Robin Hood-type of chivalric code. In reality
§ of course, feudal yakuza were merely gamblers, neither free men
w nor champions of ninkyodo. In films, however, chivz^rou^ yakuza
2 are imagined to rush to the defense of the common folk against
w samurai excesses.

> Since self-denial and stoicism is emphasized in their code, it

often appears to be a mere imitation of the Bushido code. However,
it is at direct odds with Bushido because it replaces loyalty with
obligation or duty {giri), which is, in turn, counterbalanced by
humaneness {ninjo). In other words, human relations should not
be regulated by duty alone, for duty without compassion is as
rigid as the concept of loyalty. One must sympathize with the
lamentable position of the weak, and in this respect ninkyodo is
incompatible with Bushido, which advocates the sacrifice of one's
own feelings for the cause of duty or justice. Furthermore, whereas
the emphasis on honor in Bushido centers around the pride of the
ruling class, its concern in ninkyodo is with the rebellious feelings
of the oppressed commoners. Thus, yakuza movies convey the
message of pride and honor better than films about samurai.
There were no special codes governing the conduct of towns-
50 People and farmers, and it is difficult to imagine a charismatic
figure emerging from these ranks. A commoner could only adopt
the moral code of ninkyodo by becoming an outlaw. In fact, in
period drama the samurai and tht yakuza are the only heroes,
while the common people are depicted as dullards with neither
pride nor courage. This is a deep-seated prejudice that is even
found in some of Kurosawa's finest films. A look at history is
enough to reveal the inaccuracy of this inclination. Noble yakuza
were rare, and the written accounts of Europeans and Americans
often describe the samurai as a shifty lot who usually shirked
their responsibilities. Just as there were probably many cowards
among their numbers, the common folk, the ancestors of most
Japanese, were not always stupid and timid.
 This misinterpretation is due unfortunately to the Japanese §
education system, which, since the Meiji Restoration of 1868, ^
was largely determined by descendants of the samurai. They fos- q
tered the illusion that all the spiritual qualities and virtues of the g
feudal period were monopolized by the samurai social class. Con- §
sequently, Japanese film-makers could not imagine a commoner ^
as a splendid figure asserting his will to accomplish acts ofjustice.
While this is a sad limitation, Japanese directors have managed ^
to portray, with a haunting beauty, the behavior ofmodel samurai S
2ivA yakuza, who lived according to a strong sense of pride and O
honor. 2
In this respect period dramas differ greatly from American c
Westerns, with which they are often compared. Although both >
genres have fighting scenes as their forte, their differences are p
deeper than the type of weapon used. With the exception of the %
U.S. Cavalry, there is no distinction in the rank of characters that
appear in Westerns. The sheriff, outlaw, cowboy, farmer, etc.,
are more or less on an equal social footing. In addition, there
are no equivalents to Bushido and ninkyodo in the form of special
codes for the sheriffs and poker players, and each group may
have its heroes and villains, its strong and weak, its brave and
cowardly. Their common feature is the pioneer spirit and pride,
which is not exclusive to a single social class, such as the warriors.

3. MODERN TAKUZA FILMS

A new vogue ioxyakuza movies, this time set in the 1900s, began 51
in 1963 and lasted for a decade, and its success is unparalleled in
the history of Japanese film. This yakuza movie completely
usurped the position formerly held by the old period drama, de
spite the sameness of the storyline and the sentiments, which
always lead to the tragic climax.
The story usually takes the following line. In Tokyo, or a large
provincial capital, there is a ctvX.?anyakuza gang that still adheres
to the code of ninkyodo, a Robin Hood-type of chivalric behavior.
Apart from the vice of gambling, it is careful not to cause trouble
to ordinary citizens. The boss is usually a moral man, who is
revered by the gang. However, in the same district, there is a rival
gang, headed by a man who has no qualms about robbery, fraud.
§ or even murder, and is deeply involved in shady business deals,
^ (In films set in the 1930s this gang boss usually had some under-
§ cover connection with the military.) He maintains an office in a
w modern building and has close ties with one of the giant Japanese
S corporations.
^ This mean boss, bent on achieving his ends, persecutes the good
> boss's gang, whose members are eager to have a showdown but
§ are restrained by the boss. Finally, the latter is murdered, and
w this provides the crowning provocation for the fight. The head-
2 quarters of the evil boss is attacked and geysers of blood spurt in
W a gory climax. After cutting down several dozen baddies, the
> hero slays the archvillain himself and then surrenders calmly
to the police. The sequel will usually begin with the hero emerging
from prison, only to discover that his old gang members have de
generated into modern gangsters seeking to profit from illicit busi
ness deals. They are now persecuting duaoXhtryakuza gang, whose
members still follow the ninkyodo code, and so the story goes on.
These modernyakuza movies successfully projected the feelings
of a small group shunted aside by social change, and were thus
extremely popular in the 1960s. During the previous decade the
yakuza series with the biggest following had been Jirocho of Shimizu
[Shimizu Jirocho) ^a dashing, cheerful tale of a large clan that makes
it big in the underground world by gaining control of all the gam
bling dens along the main road from Edo to Kyoto in the latter
part of the nineteenth century. As television began to invade the
home in the 1960s and the majority of families abandoned the
52 movie theater, motion pictures began to cater to the solitary bach
elors in the big cities. Most of them, myself included, came to
the city alone from the provinces and were without family con
nections. They empathized with tht yakuza hero, an orphan in
the universe, and longed for the desperate friendship of yakuza
gang. Thus the modtrn yakuza movie offered a kind of Utopia for
the lonely young men. The more unreal it was, the more beautiful
the ideal became, which was none other than the dream of the lost
home floating before the eyes of an audience of loners.
Alienated people, unlike those content with work and family,
are constantly in search of a purpose in life. Some may partici
pate in political or religious movements, but the vast majority
roam the streets looking for something of their own. These people
cherish the wish of belonging to a small tight group bound by ®
friendship and loyalty—a group of individuals like themselves, ^
seeking an unrestricted life-style. When they see the presentation ^
of such a group in a modern yakuza movie, where violence is ^
used as a counterattack on large, profit-oriented enterprises, they §
applaud heartily. co
These sentiments are common to all of us and are not exclusive 5
to modtrnyakuza movie fans. No matter how far society may pro- ^
gress, large enterprises or hierarchical organizations can never S
satisfy human needs completely. Most people would wish to be- o
long to a group of individuals who are so close that there is no need 0
for words to be spoken, a group bound by a trust that leaves no >
room for betrayal. This desire transcends all social distinctions, >
and if an age of control by computers does arrive, it will become 2
all the more precious. ^
The hero of the old yakuza movie, in his clash with some big
gang, is sentenced to certain death, or to an existence even lonelier
than his previous one. The modern yakuza hero, however, does
not perish in the showdown, thus alleviating the loneliness. With
constant repetition of the theme, an element of insincerity was
gradually introduced, but the message still rings clear: We have
entered an era in which an assault on a big organization by a small
group in the name of justice is no longer doomed to certain failure.
The student demonstrations in the 1960s definitely had an effect
on this change in attitude.
The new, invincible hero was not only a less tragic but also a less
human figure, as manifested in the acting style of Noboru Ando, 53
a rtdi\-\\{oyakuza who turned film star in the late 1960s. Ando al
ways wore a serious, deadpan expression, which became his trade
mark, as if to suggest that the life of di yakuza was devoid of fear,
laughter, or sexual desire. This immobility of expression is by no
means due to his lack of acting experience, for the accomplished
actor Koji Tsuruta ^Idiytd yakuza roles with the same expression.
This expression of resignation seems to be a trait of men who
have given up more sophisticated forms of communication, choos
ing to assume, instead, the stern, ostentatious pose of one who is
prepared to die at any time. This death resolve adds a streak of
beauty to the gory swordfight climax, with the fight becoming its
ultim ateexpression.
§ Swordfighting scenes have always characterized the climax of
^ oldyakuza films and period dramas. As mentioned earlier, the bal-
§ letic Kabuki style was replaced by a faster, more violent one in
CO the 1920s, although the pace of the swordplay was quickened in-
§ tentionally to heighten the tragedy of the nihilistic hero, thereby
sacrificing realism for beauty of form. With Rashomon and Seven
^ Samurai {Shichinin no Samurai^ 1954), Kurosawa waived beauty of
§ form and had his actors assume gauche but realistic poses, or had
w them rushing about wildly, cleaving the air with their swords.
2 This certainly added a vivid touch, but the slightly comical effect
w never quite convinces us of the cruelty involved in man killing
> man. I believe that the true period drama precursors of the cli
mactic fights in modtvn yakuza movies are the postwar films made
by Tomu Uchida (1898-1970): A Bloody Spear at Mount Fuji
{Chiyari Fuji^ 1955); The Great Bodhisattva Pass (JDaibosatsu Toge^
1957); and Beautiful Toshiwara and the Murder of Hundreds [Hana
no Toshiwara Hyakunin Giri, 1960).
The first film, consisting of a few tragicomic sketches of fellow
travelers on their way to Edo, suddenly assumes tragic proportions
with the killing of a young, weak-hearted samurai and the sub
sequent revenge of his old lance-bearer (Chiezo Kataoka), a man
completely untrained in the martial arts. Yet, with his rage
aroused to fever pitch, he is able to track down these professional
swordsmen, charging at them with his spear slashing in all direc
tions, and kill every single one of them.
The depiction of the murderous frenzy of a complete novice
54 in martial arts is an obvious extension of the kind of realism Kuro
sawa innovated in Rashomon, However, the malice exhibited by
the bearer, who is thoroughly intent upon killing his foes, marked
a further cinematic step. Their deaths do not occur haphazardly,
or comically; they are presented with the cold force of real death.
The shock of this climax in 1955 was stupendous. After the last
killer is impaled on the spear, the camera gives us a bird's-eyeview
of the carnage. In the midst of the scattered corpses stands the
hunched, paltry figureofthe lance-bearer, lookingdazed and utterly
confused. The effect of this' scene is like a nightmare suddenly
exploding in the middle of a humdrum dream.
Perhaps it is worth mentioning by way of explanation for this
show of utter violence that Uchida made this film after his return
to Japan from China, where he had been imprisoned nine years §
after the end of World War II. The nightmare he conjures up ^
may have reflected his own war-time experiences, for nothing q
like it had been seen in his prewar masterpieces. A Living Doll §
[Ikeru Mngyo, 1929) and The Revenge Champion {Adauchi Senshu, §
1931) were both leftist tendency films, while Unending Advance ^
[Kagirinaki Z^nshin, 1937) and Earth [Tsuchi, 1939) were films 5
in the critical realism genre. His reputation and experiences in ^
China led many to expect a leftist film after his return. How- S
ever, A Bloody Spear at Mount Fuji was devoid of ideology, and the O
portrayal of humor and warmth makes it seem initially to be a 2
yearning for prewar days. This is soon changed, however, with g
the momentary aberration of the lance-bearer. Perhaps it is safe >
to say that it was an evocation of the war in China, which had p
led to Uchida's making the film in the first place. ^
In Uchida's version of The GreatBodhisattva Pass, the shock effect
of the lance-bearer's reckless attack is carried still further in the
portrayal of Ryunosuke Tsukue, the archetype of the nihilistic
hero. This mad swordsman (Chiezo Kataoka) has a compulsion
to kill and each time he feels the demoniac rage rising within him,
we see him standing on a revolving stage against a red or dark
gray backdrop. With this abstract effect, Uchida reveals the lurid
psyche of this homicidal intoxication.
In Beautiful Toshiwara andthe Murder ofHundreds, we can glimpse
the intense romanticism with which Uchida imbues his depiction
of the climactic fight, where cruelty is tinged with beauty. The
heroine, arrested for prostitution in an Edo neighborhood where 55
it is prohibited, is sent, by way of punishment, to a licensed
brothel in Yoshiwara, where she is made to offer her services free of
charge. She meets a rich, middle-aged bumpkin (Chiezo Kata
oka), who falls desperately in love with her, which only makes
her treat him more like a fool and wheedle more money out of
him. When he realizes that he has been tricked he draws his
sword. She runs outside, where the cherry blossoms of Yoshiwara
are at their most beautiful, their petals fluttering through the air
as she pushes through a procession of beautifully clad, high-class
geisha. She continues to flee but is finally cut down.
Here Uchida transforms the main theme of leftist movies of
the 1950s—the resentment of the underdog erupting against
§ society—into a chain reaction, initiated by the resentment of the
^ heroine at her harsh sentence and culminating with the indignant
§ rage of her old lover. This rage is likened to a flower, a flower of
madness and destruction, one that scatters to the winds as soon
5 as it has bloomed.

>
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56
1. A Crazy Page (Kurutta Ippeiji,
1926), directed by Teinosuke
Kinugasa. Japan's first avant-
garde movie depicts the life of in
mates at an asylum (see Preface).

2. Seisaku's Wife {Seisaku no Tsuma,

1924), directed by Minoru Mura-
ta. The onnagata is replaced by
one of the first screen actresses,
Kumeko Urabe, in Japan's first
movie with an antiwar theme (see
Chapter 1).
 3. Denjiro Okochi (1898-1962),
one of the most representative ac
tors of the noble tateyaku type, is
cast as the judo master in Akira
Kurosawa's Sanshiro Sugata {Sugata
Sanshiro, 1943) (see Chapter 1).

4. Shin Saburi is another tateyaku

actor, who, even in a modern role,
still wears the stern coimtenance
of his traditional model (see Chap
ter 1).
5. Keiji Sada (1926-64) was one
of the most popular actors special
izing in nimaime roles of pathetic,
ill-fated men who could never give
happiness to the women they loved
(see Chapter 1).

6. The Compassionate Buddha Tree

{Aizen Katsura, 1938), directed by
Hiromasa Nomura. This senti
mental love story, which set the
prewar box-office record, depicted
the thwarted romance between the
weak nimaime hero (Ken Uehara)
and the unfortunate heroine (Ki-
nuyo Tanaka) (see Chapter 1).
 4.

#•

7. What Is Tour Name? {Kimi no Na wa, 1953), directed by Hideo Oba. This
postwar box-officesuccessonce again demonstrates the popularity of sentimen
tal love stories centering on the nimaime lead (Keiji Sada) and the sorrowful
heroine (Keiko Kishi) (see Chapter 1).
8. The Life of Matsu the Untamed
{Muho Matsu no Issho, 1943), di
rected by Hiroshi Inagaki. Period
drama star Tsumasaburo Bando
(1901-53), as the uneducated rick
sha man, brought to contemporary
drama the spirit and pride that
was once reserved for samurai (see
Chapter 1).

9. The Human Condition {Ningen no

Joken, 1959-61), directed by Ma-
saki Kobayashi. The postwar syn
thesis of the tateyaku and nimaime
roles is best represented in this
odyssey of a brave man (Tatsuya
Nakadai) who loves a woman (Mi-
chiyo Aratama) (see Chapter 2).
10. The Great Bodhisattva Pass [Daibosatsu Toge, 1935), directed by Hiroshi
Inagaki. Denjiro Okochi plays the archetype of the nihilistic hero, a samurai
tormented hy the ghosts of those he has killed (see Chapter 3).

11. Journey of a Thousand and One Nights {Matatabi Sen-ichiya, 1936), directed
hy Hiroshi Inagaki. The adventures of this carefree^aA:M2a gambler (Kan'emon
Nakamura, left) best manifest the new "free spirit" hero of the 1930s (see
Chapter 3).
 12. Musashi Miyamoto series {Mi
yamoto Musashi, 1961-65), directed
by Tomu Uchida. This tale is of a
swordsman (Kinnosuke Naka-
mura) who excelled at his profes
sion and became the model hero
in war-time Japan (see Chapter 3).

13. Harakiri {Seppuku, 1962), direct

ed by Masaki Kobayashi. A pov
erty-stricken samurai (Tatsuya
Nakadai) forfeits his life out of his
warrior's sense of pride and honor
(see Chapter 3).
 14. Hishakaku {Hishakaku, 1963),
directed by Tadashi Sawashima.
The movie that started the modern
yakuza vogue, with Koji Tsuruta
{left), its first star, and Yoshiko
Sakuma {right) (see Chapter 3).

15. Junko Fuji was the most pop

ular actress of women yakuza dur
ing the latter part of the modern
yakuza movie vogue in the 1960s
(see Chapter 3).
16. A Bloody Spear at Mount Fuji
{Chiyari Fuji, 1955), directed by
Tomu Uchida. The bloody climax
of this film, in which the servant
(Chiezo Kataoka) avenges his
master's death, anticipated the
violence in moAern yakuza movies
(see Chapter 3).

17. Soshun Kochiyama (Kochiyama

Soshun, 1936), directed by Sadao
Yamanaka. The prewar model of
the unfortunate woman (Shizue
Yamagishi), who dies for the man
(Chojuro Kawarasaki) she loves
(see Chapter 4).
18. Taki no Shiraito {Taki no Shiraito, 1933), directed by Kenji Mizoguchi. This
famous shot of the heroine (Takako Irie) gazing down at the youth (Tokihiko
Okada) she loves epitomizes Mizoguchi's worship of women (see Chapter 4).
 19. Osaka Elegy (Namvoa Ereji,,
1936), directed by Kenji Mizo-
guchi. By leaving home, this young
woman (Isuzu Yamada) makes
her protest against all the men in
her family and her life (see Chap-

20. Intentions of Murder {Akai

Satsui, 1964), directed by Shohei
Imamura. Through her rape, this
woman (Masumi Harukawa) be
comes stronger, thereby represent
ing the tough, survival-type moral
ity of the common people (see
Chapter 4).
 w

21. Fujiko Yamamoto, a top star of the 1950s, is considered by the Japanese
to possess the most traditional type of beauty (see Chapter 4).
 22. A top star from the late 1930s
to the 1950s, Setsuko Hara had the
image of a modern and intelligent
woman, qualities that endeared
her to Japanese audiences (see
Chapter 4).

23. Floating Clouds {Ukigumo, 1955),

directed by Mikio Naruse. The
tenacity of this ill-fated woman
(Hideko Takamine) is much ad
mired despite her love for a worth
less man (Masayuki Mori) (see
Chapter 4).
24. Eros Plus Massacre (Erosu Pu-
rasu Gyakusatsu, 1970), directed by
Yoshishige Yoshida. The life of
the anarchist Sakae Osugi, who
tried to advocate free love in Japan
in the 1910s, is also the story of a
woman's (Mariko Okada) pursuit
of freedom (see Chapter 4).

25. The Story of Tank Commander

Mishizumi {Nishizumi Senshacho-
den, 1940), directed by Kozaburo
Yoshimura. Ken Uehara portrays
the humanistic war hero who died
during the Sino-Japanese War that
began in 1937 (see Chapter 5).
26. The War at Seafrom Hawaii to Malaya (Hawaii-Marei Oki Kaisen, 1942), di
rected by Kajiro Yamamoto. This film depicts in semidocumentary fashion
the training of the pilots who attacked Pearl Harbor in 1941 (see Chapter 5).

27. Mud and Soldiers (Tsuchi to Heitai, 1939), directed by Tomotaka Tasaka.
Training scenes were important in war films, and here the battlefield provided
a training ground for the human spirit (see Chapter 5).
/ ' / ^
 4
28. Carmen's Pure Love {Karumen Junjosu, 1952), directed by Keisuke Kinoshita.
Uneducated women working as strippers (Toshiko Kobayashi, left-, Hideko
Takamine, right) protest against Japan's postwar rearmament (see Chapter 5).

29. The Towerof Lilies {Himeyuri no To, 1953), directed by Tadashi Imai. The
antiwar theme of this successful film, which highlights the solidarity of the
common people, centers around a group of high school girls (Kyoko Kagawa,
center) who perish in the battle for Okinawa (see Chapter 5).

,i \-r M %
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i 111 i 11
4
Film Heroines

/ ily • 1

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Ki'

1. THEIR OCCUPATIONS
Since the beginning of Japanese cinema the leading female role
was often either an entertainer, a geisha, or a prostitute, and sev
eral films with such heroines—such as some of Mizoguchi's works
—were masterpieces. Although such occupations are looked down
upon in society, paradoxically, respectable maids, factory hands,
and hardworking women in farming and merchant families have
seldom featured as film heroines. This was probably because the
choice of marriage partners rested with the parents and romance
between respectable men and women did not blossom of its own
accord. Japanese love stories in movies usually centered around
affairs with geisha or prostitutes that ended tragically because
society did not want these women to be happier than their re
spectable counterparts. Even these days, when romantic love
g between respectable people is accepted, more men and women
^ have marriages that are arranged by parents or company bosses.
^ One exception to the above rule was the nursing profession, the
first modern woman's profession to be extolled in Japanese film.
§ Since her job required her to help men, it wasnatural for gratitude
^ to turn into love, and popular acceptance of this situation is
^ evident from the success of Messenger from the Moon (Tsuki yori no
§ Shisha, 1934), about the love between a poornurse and a rich man,
w and of the 1938 The Compassionate Buddha Tree, which established
Q a new box-office record.
w Another profession where women could meet respectable men
> and even fall in love with them was that of teaching. This was the
case in Young People (Wakai Hito, 1937), with its triangle theme
involving the woman teacher, the man she loves, and one of their
students, a rather eccentric girl. This film created quite a sensa
tion, and, given the seriousness of the teaching profession, the
feelings of all concerned had to be expressed delicately and in
directly, and there was no explicit love scene.
In 1942 New Snow {Shinsetsu), a film about two young primary
school teachers who do their best to give their charges a good edu
cation, won the overwhelming approval of young movie fans.
The depiction of their love was so subtle that it was even passed
by the censors, who generally regarded all love stories as por
nography that distracted concentration from the war effort.
After defeat in 1945, the love story between a man and woman
as social equals became part of the process of democratization, and
one of the biggest hits was Blue Mountains (Aoi Sammyaku, 1949).
In it a woman teacher and her students try to convince the back
ward leaders of their provincial town that love is wonderful,
healthy, and respectable.
Office girls have often appeared in Japanese films, but their
initial portrayal was not favorable since, nurses, doctors, and
teachers excepted, it was popularly thought that a woman only
worked because she had to and the term "working woman" was
tinged with contempt. This attitude is even reflected in Mizo-
guchi's Osaka Elegy, where the switchboard operator for a small
company becomes the mistress of the boss to save her family from
destitution. By 1939, however, this attitude changed, as seen in A
Brother and His Younger Sister (Ani toSono Imoto, 1939). The secretary
(played by Michiko Kuwano, the most modern type of actress 3
then) demonstrates her competence by typing aletter into English S
while her boss is dictating it in Japanese. W
During World War II, Japanese women, like their counterparts g
elsewhere, entered many occupations new to them in order to fill g
the labor shortage. Although they subsequently returned to do- w
mesticity, it became customary for women to take a job after
school and before marriage. Thus more women had the chance
to seek their own sweethearts at their places of work, and the
opportunities for romance increased.

2. THE UNFORTUNATE WOMAN

Tai Kato's Flower Cards Match [Hanafuda Shobu, 1969, from The
Red Peony Gambler series, Hibotan Bakuto) was an impressiveyakuzo,
movie both for its colorful Kabuki-like beauty and its striking
presentation of the unfortunate woman, a central motif in Jap
anese film. In it a middle-aged woman is traveling around the
country with her blind daughter. By claiming to be the famous
professional gambler O-Ryu of the Red Peony Tattoo, she gains
employment in a gambling house until the real O-Ryu (Junko
Fuji) appears and exposes her. At first the imposter is filled with
spite toward her rival, but her attitude changes when she discovers
that O-Ryu had once rescued her daughter from being crushed
by an oncoming train. She then regards O-Ryu as her benefactor
and feels a great sense of debt toward her.
Soon afterward the imposter is given an opportunity to repay 75
her moral debtwhen she learns that h.eryakuza boss haskidnapped
the son of O-Ryu'syakuza boss. She thereupon contrives to free
the son and his sweetheart, but, just as they are making their es
cape, they are discovered by her boss's henchmen, who come in
hot pursuit. As soon as the trio are out of the building, the woman
orders the lovers to flee ahead, and, by pressing her body against
the door, she keeps the pursuers inside. Finally one of the hench
men thrusts hissword through the doorpanel, piercing her throat,
and a crimson geyser of blood spurts forth. She shrieks in pain,
her face turns deathly pale, and she topples over, still trying to
hold the door shut.
A similar moving, unforgettable scene is found in Sadao Yama-
§ naka's prewar masterpiece, Soshun Kochiyama [Kochiyama Soshuriy
^ 1936). While it is probably no coincidence that the director of
§ Flower Cards Match, Tai Kato, was the nephew of Yamanaka,
w the liberal period drama film-maker, a more crucial influence is
§ the persistent Japanese attachment toward images of unfortunate,
self-sacrificing women.
^ Yamanaka's film was adapted from Mokuami's famous nine-
§ teenth-century play of the same name. Kochiyama, a brawling,
w outlaw samurai, roams about with his best friend, Ichinojo Kane-
2 ko, looking for trouble. Despite this, he is basically a decent fellow
w who dotes on a young brother and sister, Hiro and O-Nami,
> trying to save them from the Moritaya gang. One day, while Kochi
yama, his wife O-Shizu, Ichinojo, and Hiro are all in a tavern,
there is a knock on the door and O-Shizu opens it only to find
the whole yard swarming with the Moritaya gang. Without hes
itation, she slips outside, slams the door behind her, and con
fronts them by blocking their passage with her body. The rest of
the Kochiyama party is now trapped inside the tavern. They draw
their swords and prepare to cut their way out. Suddenly one of
the gang outside yells, 'Tf you don't come out, your old lady
will breathe her last!" Ichinojo rushes to the door but Kochiyama
restrains him.
'Tchi! This may seem beside the point, but she's my wife . . .
Kochiyama's wife!" In effect, he is saying that he can count on
her all the way and, as the line is delivered, there is a shot of
O-Shizu smiling faintly as she is surrounded by the Moritaya
76
It is interesting to note that because prewar censors forbade
kissing or embracing scenes—not to mention bed scenes—there
developed a subtle kind of love scene with no sensuality,
which attained a high level of refinement. While a couple like
Kochiyama and O-Shizu kept their distance, socially and phys
ically, they came to count on each other, and the intimacy
and fulfillment they achieved was a sublime negation of prewar
restrictions.
This kind of love scene also suggests the extent that Japanese
men are indulged by their women. The women, in turn, by having
their men rely on them to the ultimate degree, take this depen
dence to be the most profound expression of love. It is a relation-
ship that is closer to a mother-son relationship than to romantic 3
or conjugal love. Men cause suffering to women by demanding S
from them all kinds of concessions and self-sacrifices, and then 3pj
transform the women's suffering into a stimulus toward achieve- ^
ment on their part, while being plagued by guilt. Then, in the §
web of their guilt, the women finally trap their love. This psycho- ^
logical pattern is still evident and probably explains why suffering
women are such a persistent theme in the Japanese cinema.
The above psychology has also acted as a thrust toward mod
ernization. Ethnologist Kunio Yanagida was once asked what had
inspired Meiji-period (1868-1912) scholars to their tremendous
achievements in letters and science, which propelled Japan into
the modern age. Yanagida answered that it was the image of
their mothers back in the provinces. Trusting in their sons, they
toiled away until the early hours of the morning, sacrificing them
selves in order to put them through college in the city. This image,
branded into these scholars' minds, spurred them on. The image
became an archetype and Kochiyama's trusting, self-sacrificing
wife is almost certainly an emanation of it. The fact that it was
re-created in Flower Cards Match over thirty years later is a tribute
to its sway over the imaginations of contemporary Japanese.
Although the woman in Flower Cards Match did not die for her
man, like O-Shizu she also suffered on account of her husband.
He was a wandering gambler who had deserted her and their blind
daughter, and it was her fate to go from province to province in
search of him. Since she met her death through the actions of her
errant husband, both she and O-Shizu belong to the same type 77
of unfortunate, suffering woman.
The image of the unfortunate woman engenders moral indigna
tion against the man responsible and thus creates an undercurrent
of loathing in the audience. In films the unfortunate woman
almost never complains of the injustice done her and the misfor
tune she must endure. The image of a single woman's suffering in
itself is a powerful enough indictment against oppression by the
whole male sex.
Most movies depicting this theme tend to be low-brow, senti
mental fare, so-called women's melodramas, and are scorned as
reactionary by those who see them as attempts to instill resigna
tion in the poor. Yet the whole genre cannot be so easily dismissed
g because its effect on us can transcend the shallow dimension of
^ sympathy, or the relief in seeing those worse off than ourselves.
^ The image of a woman suffering uncomplainingly can imbue us
^ with admiration for a virtuous existence almost beyond our reach,
§ rich in endurance and courage. One can idealize her rather than
^ merely pity her, and this can lead to what I call the worship of
^ womanhood, a special Japanese brand of feminism. This worship
§ is rooted in the moral consciousness of the common people, and
w since the images of unfortunate women in films like Soshun Kochi-
G yama and Flower Cards Match have the power to arouse it, they
w leave an indelible impression on Japanese audiences. While the
> worship of womanhood can be found in many Japanese movies,
both before and after 1945, it was best expressed in the works of
Kenji Mizoguchi, Kaneto Shindo, and Shohei Imamura.
Mizoguchi's oldest reasonably intact film is Taki no Shiraito
{Taki no Shiraito^ 1933), based on a popular Shimpa drama from
a novel by Kyoka Izumi, about an itinerant female entertainer
whose stage name is Taki no Shiraito. She falls in love with a
youth she meets in a provincial town and, as he has his heart set
on studying in Tokyo, she raises the money for his tuition. She
borrows that sum from a moneylender at an exorbitant interest,
and when she is unable to return the money on time, she is
hounded by the loan shark, whom she eventually stabs to death.
At her trial, the judge turns out to be none other than the young
man she has helped. In spite of the fact that he owes his success
to her, the law must be upheld and he condemns her to death,
yg Afterward, filled with remorse, he takes his own life.
Although the plot is fraught with coincidence and the acting
is melodramatic, this film has a marvelously redeeming quality
in that it connects the image of the unfortunate woman with
the tragic side of modernization. The sacrifice Taki no Shiraito
made to send her young man to college reflects a dominant pat
tern in Japanese society, and also Mizoguchi's own situation since
his sister had given him money to attend a fine arts school. Ever
since the Meiji period average families have made enormous
sacrifices to send one son, usually the eldest, to a university in
Tokyo, thereby banking on his future success. His mother, sisters,
and brothers would give up their own happiness and resign them
selves to a life of drudgery. These women were seldom compen-
sated for their sacrifices: if successful the sons would usually live 3
in a different world, a tragic paradox of modernization. In addi- S
tion, a college education seldom guaranteed success. A good job, §
especially during hard times, was difficult to find and an intellec- §
tual was often left with only two bleak prospects: to become a §
poor scholar or a revolutionary. Either way, everything amounted
to a betrayal of the women left at home.
Taki no Shiraito was a masterly reproach for this betrayal, since
the successful man not only fails to acknowledge the sacrifices of
the heroine but also condemns her to death. The fact that he
later commits suicide shows his atonement, as well as revealing
the psychology behind Mizoguchi's own worship of women, evi
dent in two scenes.
The first scene takes place late at night on a bridge in the out
skirts of a town, when Taki no Shiraito and the youth reveal their
love for each other. The youth is squatting near the bridge railing
when she calls out to him. He looks up and there she is, standing
slim and elegant, gazing down upon him, and the uncontrived
composition of this shot conveys the director's reverent attitude
toward women. The second scene occurs when she tells the usurer
that she cannot return the money but refuses to give him her body.
He reacts brutally by grabbing her hair and dragging her across
the floor. This violent act is a marked change from Taki no
Shiraito's earlier appearance on the bridge, and the horror evoked
is not so much a reaction to the physical cruelty as a cry against
the sacrilegious defilement of a woman of dignity.
Both scenes reveal how much Mizoguchi's worship of women yg
was based on his own compassion for unfortunate women. He
idealized them by assuming that they had all originally been
noble, and he saw their subsequent transformation into despicable
wretches as a result of male, social, and even human sin.
Critics often point to Mizoguchi's Osaka Elegy and Sisters of the
Gion (both 1936) as the turning point in his career, when he made
an abrupt departure from the aesthetic, sentimental romanticism
of such films as Taki no Shiraito toward stark, realistic treatment.
Despite this transition, however, his reverent attitude toward
women remained. The only difference was that in Taki no Shiraito
he was content with showing only the beauty of a pathetic woman,
while in Osaka Elegy and Sisters of the Gion he recognized that such
g women have a right to protest against men. His use of cinematic
^ realism was clearly an attempt tomake this protest more palatable
^ and more convincing.
In Osaka Elegy a girl goes astray for the sake of her father and
g brother who, in turn, reject her for it. Thereafter, she pursues this
^ wayward path in earnest. While at first it appears that Mizoguchi
^ was merely relating her unfortunate circumstances, it is later evi-
§ dent that she is accusing the male-centered social system ofcrime,
w the male gender of sin.
Q The same is true of the younger geisha in Sisters of the Gion.
w Her elder sister, also a geisha, abides by the old-fashioned mores
> whereby one is obligated to take care of a former patron, even
when he can no longer pay. The younger sister is the complete
opposite, and makes a profession of wheedling money out of men.
She continues to lead her men by the nose until one of them gets
even by pushing her out of a moving automobile. The older sister,
intending to give her a lecture in the hospital, is stopped cold when
the young girl cries out, ''The whole geisha profession stinks."
In this scene all the men that the profession exists for are impli
cated.
As with the heroine of Osaka Elegy^ the young geisha's behavior
is not dictated by life's necessities, nor is it the result of an evil
disposition. Both girls act with innocent glee, almost to the point
of seeming naive. In contrast, the men they twist around their
fingers and who turn on them in the end are all presented as com
ical Philistines who only deserve contempt.
gQ It was only with Mizoguchi's postwar masterpieces, where the
romantic and the realistic approaches were combined harmoni
ously with the central theme of worship of womanhood, that
he could be regarded as the creator of a unique world. The
pathetic Taki no Shiraito and the accusing young girls were
replaced by women like the wife in Ugetsu {Ugetsu Monogatari,
1953, script by Yoshikata Yoda) and the mother in Sansho the
Bailiff {Sansho Dayu, 1954), women who shoulder alone the evil of
men and cleanse it by their self-sacrifice. With these strong, almost
divine heroines, Mizoguchi's films became hymns to womanhood,
and he transformed a personal penchant into a universal, religious
principle that transcended the simple, sensual aestheticism often
associated with the worship of women.
 Another director, Kaneto Shindo, who had studied script- 3
writing under Mizoguchi, can be considered the inheritor of this ^
theme. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that Shindo's §
view of women blossomed under the master's encouragement, §
but once in bloom revealed itself to be of a different hue. Since §
he wrote scripts for many directors, he did not pursue this theme
consistently but, with two or three exceptions^ all the dramas
he directed himself were centered around women, with his wife
Nobuko Otowa almost invariably in the leading role.
Shindo's women, in contrast to Mizoguchi's heroines, are nei
ther naively beautiful nor awe-inspiring. However, they are more
outspoken and attack the male-oriented society with more fury.
In earlier works like Epitome [Shukuzu, 1953) and Only Women Know
Sorrow [Kanashimi wa Onna dake ni^ 1958), Shindo differs from
Mizoguchi by idealizing the intimidating capacity of Japanese
women for sustained work, and contrasting them with shamefully
lazy men. In the 1960s, however, the pattern of the lazy, haughty
male lording it over the hard-working unfortunate female chang
ed with Shindo's introduction of the theme of impotence in Lost
Sex {Honno^ 1966) and The Origin of Sex {Sei no Kigen, 1967). The
only remedy for this seemed to be the love of a more maternal
woman, although this was not enough in The Origin of Sex^ where
the impotent, aging male suddenly dropped dead despite the
woman's ministrations.
Both Mizoguchi and Shindo, in his earlier films, had portrayed
women as victims. By contrasting the comical weakness of the
male with the unbridled strength of the female, Shindo seemed gl
to be saying in the 1960s that women had wrought their revenge.
This could have been a reflection of postwar society, since it is
commonly said that in Japan women have become stronger
because men have lost all confidence in their masculinity due to
Japan's defeat. With the decrease of tyrannical husbands, this
may indeed have occurred within the home, but not in society,
where the status of women had not changed much. Also, accord
ing to Shohei Imamura, Japanese women had always been strong
in the home and there was no need for any postwar change.
In order to understand Imamura's view of women, an ex
amination of his attitude toward the masses is necessary. To
Imamura ordinary women realistically mirrored the condition
§ of the masses since they seldom rose to positions ofleadership or
^ became members ofthe ruling class. Imamura made his debut in
§ 1958 with Stolen Desire {Nusumareta Yokujo)^ about a literary youth
who becomes involved with a troupe of vulgar, itinerant enter-
^ tainers who initiate him into a lewd world. Far from being re-
^ pelled by it, the hero believes that he loves these people for what
> they are and hopes to create a new art form based on the life of
w common people. In the end, however, it all turns out to be a pipe
^ dream. He falls in love with one of the daughters of the tateyaku,
g a girl who has maintained her innocence despite her surround-
^ ings, and together they escape from the brawling, decadent
^ world of the troupe.
The hero, a self-portrait, while admiring the raw energy of the
common people, does not know how to convert it into "positive"
values. After tortuous attempts, he eventually gives up. He decides
that at best this milieu is a throbbing volcano of humanity, which,
without a shred of idealism, favors a passive affirmation of the
status quo. This indeterminate conclusion is reflected in the
ending when the hero and his sweetheart slink off to the city
lights and the world of organized labor, while the itinerant
entertainers head in the opposite direction, chased by farmers
whose chickens they have stolen.
Attraction-repulsion, love-hate, positive-negative: such is the
ambivalence characterizing the young Imamura's attitude in
his chosen milieu. The pattern is just as apparent in his first big
success. Pigs and Battleships {Buta to Gunkan, 1961). Small-time
82 g^-ngsters begin to breed pigs, expecting to use the garbage from
a neighboring American military base as feed. However, when
their official permit turns out to be forged, hilarious squabbles
arise within the gang.
The hero is a young gangster who dreams of becoming top dog
in the gang, but his girlfriend, seeing the stupidity in this, minces
no words when it comes to giving him sound advice. She herself,
however, is no paragon of rationality. She gets drunk and is
raped by a group of American sailors. Even then she does not seem
to know when to leave well erioughalone, for she tries to get even by
stealing the sailors' wallets. Caught and thrown into jail, she is
still clear-sighted enough to see the gangsters as nothing more
than human trash. She has the inner capacity for sizing up the
important things in life, and this particular ability is common to p
many of Imamura's subsequent heroines. When her boyfriend is ^
killed, she decides she has had enough of this life. Like the hero §
in Stolen Desire who abandons the itinerant entertainers for or- q
ganized labor, she goes off to get a decent job in a factory in 5
Kawasaki, near Tokyo. ^
In both these films Imamura seemed to categorize elements
in the common people as good or bad, progressive or reactionary,
encouraging the good and criticizing the bad. Thereafter, how
ever, he stopped trying to grasp the psychology of the lowest social
classes by analyzing their "good" and "bad" sides, and set himself
the task of apprehending their milieu as a single whole. He paid
closer attention to common women, who were often the object
of Mizoguchi's and Shindo's worship of womanhood. With a new
coscriptwriter, Keiji Hasebe, he portrayed women as represen
tatives of the vitality and toughness of the masses.
The first product of Imamura's collaboration with Hasebe was
The Insect Woman {^Nippon Konchuki, 1963), an account of a woman
who leaves her mountain village in the northeast to become a
prostitute in Tokyo. After several ordeals she becomes the un
successful boss of a call-girl ring. Since the life she leads is a com
pletely natural one for her, she is presented without sadness.
When frustrated she considers herself unfortunate, reveling in
self-pity and using whatever cliches pop into her head. These ex
pressions of grief are so hackneyed and mundane that the audience
involuntarily breaks into laughter, and the film almost becomes
a comedy. However, the laughter is not only a ridicule of her 33
ignorance but also an expression of admiration for her tough vi
tality, since by this she rids herself of frustration and goes on
living, no matter how immoral her existence may appear.
Through such heroines Imamura portrays common people as
leading an existence transcending conventional morality. They
do have a moral code, but what is not particularly useful is cast
aside, while what is necessary is remembered and respected. In
short, with this film Imamura began his investigation of the con
ception, suitability, and advocacy of morality.
Yet, judging from Imamura's relentless depiction of the sexual
immorality, shamelessness, and ignorance of the heroine in The
Insect Woman, one has the impression that he views lower-class
§ women with contempt. Unlike Mizoguchi's and Shindo's early
^ films, where the misfortunes of women were a general indictment
§ of male oppression and the male-oriented social structure, which
^ aroused guilt feelings in male audiences, there is nothing in
§ The Insect Woman to make one feel that the heroine has been
^ made unhappy on account of men. Nevertheless, Imamura can
^ still be regarded as a ''woman worshiper" because in later films,
§ like Intentions of Murder {Akai Satsui, 1964), he presented women
W who not only exemplified the survival-type morality of the com-
2 mon people but also controlled the psyches of their men.
g The heroine in Intentions of Murder is the wife of a librarian in a
> city in northeast Japan. She is ignorant, sluggish, and quite plain,
yet she brims over with audacity and sex appeal. Her husband,
the tyrant at home, is in reality more like a spoiled child, calling
her "Mommy" in bed. This documentarylike film changes pace
when the wife is attacked and raped by a burglar when she is
alone at home. She stumbles into the kitchen, sobbing and mut
tering that she must die for the shame of it. When she finally comes
to her senses she finds that she has been gobbling fistfuls of boiled
rice. Although aware of the traditional Japanese code that calls
for a wife to commit suicide after she has been raped, her spon
taneous act of eating rice is actually a betrayal of this moral and
shows us the abundance of her vitality. She is not without morals;
however, she balances them with the necessities of life as the oc
casion demands.
Later she is raped again by the same young man, who, it turns
out, is dying of tuberculosis. He far from dominates her, but rath
er, out of despair, seeks her love. This time she has feelings of
guilt but dismisses them. When he suggests that they elope, she
consents, but considers poisoning him when she has the chance.
In the end, however, tuberculosis gets the better of him and he
dies coughing blood over the snow. After watching his death
throes intently she simply returns home.
The plot then turns upon the fact that her husband's girl
friend had snapped some pictures of her and the man during
their elopement. When she is hospitalized as the result of an auto
mobile accident, her husband comes to visit her and shows her
one of the photographs.
"Here, this is you, isn't it?"
 She looks at the picture intently and then asks, ''Who took 3
this?" S
"It doesn't matter who. Look, this is a clear shot. There's no S
w
doubt it's you." g
"No, it's not me." g
"It is you. Those clothes are the same as yours. And there ^
aren't many people around as fat as you."
"But it's not me."
"Well then, why did you go to the train station? That was rath
er strange, wasn't it? Why?"
"You're always so suspicious of me . . . so I thought of going
someplace far away."
"By yourself?"
At this juncture the heroine assumes a defiant attitude, as if to
say that even if she did run off with another man, she has done
nothing wrong, and her husband suddenly becomes timid and
confused, lending humor and irony to their confrontation.
Imamura's implied message is that getting through life safely
is more important than insisting on principles. When life is lived
by this standard, the heroine has a clear advantage because she
knows the survival-type morality of the common people better
than men. Moreover, she holds the key to domestic order. Her
husband may brandish the principle of male authority, but in
reality he cannot insist on it due to his mother complex, through
which she controls him.
The hold Japanese women have over their men is not simply
the result of the men's mother complex. In Imamura's The Pro-
found Desire of the Gods or Kuragejima: Talesfrom a Southern Island
[Kamigami no Fukaki Yokubo, 1968), women represent primitive
society and thus control the most primal base of the spiritual
consciousness of the Japanese. Moreover, like Mizoguchi's Taki
no Shiraito, who gives her life for her man, women can also
arouse feelings of guilt because this native society was sacrificed
for modernization.
This film takes place on a small island, perhaps in the Okinawan
archipelago, and is a strange story that combines fact and myth to
such a degree that it is difficult to distinguish between them. The
central figures are two sisters. The elder one is the mistress of the
village headman and has an incestuous relationship with her broth-
g er. The younger sister is retarded, born of the union between her
^ mother and her mother's father. The conditions on this narrow
§ stretch of land and its isolation conspire to weave a complex web
of commingling family blood, with the incest in the family sym-
§ bolizing the backwardness and stagnation of the island society.
This family has set aside some rice paddies for cultivating rice
^ offerings to the island gods, eventually angering the rest of the
§ community when they refuse to sell the plot to help build an air-
w port. In addition, the younger sister seems to be sabotaging the
2 modernization process by seducing the engineer from Tokyo,
w thereby distracting him from the job on hand. Therefore, on the
> pretext of their incestuous behavior and background, this family
is eventually punished.
The last scenes of the movie are extremely moving. The elder
sister, whose brother has already been brutally killed, is tied to
the mast of a red-sailed boat that is set adrift on the ocean. Then,
five years later, a planeload of tourists flies over the island to land
on its airport. Beyond the plane, the boat, a red speck on the hori
zon floating with its ghastly cargo, is still visible. In a following
scene the ghost of the younger sister is seen moving across the
tracks of the island's first railroad.
The two sisters represent the cohesion that once existed in their
communal society, which was destroyed by the islanders for the
sake of modernization. The modern society built on the wreckage
of the old cannot be very different from what Imamura delineated
in Intentions of Murder, where the woman, symbolizing the old
gg society, seemed to be in control.
In contrast to Mizoguchi's saintly, forgiving women, Shindo's
heroines later revenged themselves on men, but for Imamura's
later heroines revenge is no longer necessary. Japanese men had
used women as stepping stones to build a new culture, but since its
foundation rested on the old, they could only progress so far. By
eventually binding their men hand and foot, Japanese women
consummated their revenge.
The two sisters in The Profound Desire of the Gods are miko, wom
en serving a Shinto shrine during childhood who often become
occult mediums or shamans. Although not much significance is
attached to this in the development of the plot, it is extremely
important to Imamura's worship of womanhood. Imamura views
women as the priestesses of the old, common social body, the 2
disintegration of which only produced smaller units that had ^
existed from the beginning, the small family. Imamura clearly g
indicates that in this small social unit women, as in the past, g
continue to function as miko^ or priestesses. g
w
Imamura's films show a keen yearning for the illusion of the
priestesslike woman, who, at the same time terrifies him, and
appears on the screen as a collective image of all those values
crushed underfoot by the modernization ofJapanese society.

3. BEAUTIFUL WOMEN
Some years ago an interesting experiment was undertaken for the
Japanese television program called "All the Earth Is Our Family."
The portraits of five Japanese actresses were shown on a university
campus in New Guinea, in a native village in the African bush,in
an Eskimo village in Greenland, to passersby in Paris and a city
in Brazil, amongst other places, and the people there were polled
as to which one they thought the most beautiful. The five actresses
were: Fujiko Yamamoto, the then acknowledged representative
ofJapanese beauty, Kaoru Yumi, an attractive dancer, Akihiko
Maruyama, a transvestite, Nijiko Kiyokawa, a middle-aged com
edienne who plays a kindly female gangster boss, and Ruriko
Asaoka, a sensitive modern type. Japanese audiences were sur
prised to find that the favorite was usually Ruriko Asaoka, not
Fujiko Yamamoto, who only ranked top in the African and
Eskimo villages, with Nijiko Kiyokawa, where Ruriko Asaoka
fared poorly.
The reasons for the choices are both revealing and interesting.
The criteria for beauty in the African village is a woman's health
iness, her capacity for hard work, a kindly disposition, and her
capacity for bearing many children. Thus Ruriko Asaoka was
not considered beautiful because she looked too frail. Although the
popularity there of the maternal Nijiko Kiyokawa is understand
able, that of Fujiko Yamamoto is something of a mystery. Ruriko
Asaoka's appeal in cosmopolitan cities is not surprising because
her popularity in Japan rested on her modernity. One Parisian
youth reportedly quipped: "Eh? Is this really a Japanese actress?
Isn't she a Parisian?" Evidently, her expression of ennui not only
g appears beautiful but conveys sentiments common to ail city-
^ dwellers. One New Guinea college student was asked why he
^ chose Akihiko Maruyama as the most beautiful. His replywas that
^ she/he struck him as being ''truly Japanese."
§ Another example of the gap between the Japanese concept of
feminine beauty and that of other peoples occurred several years
^ ago during a Franco-Japanese film production. The Japanese side
§ recommended Fujiko Yamamoto for the female lead in the pro-
w posed film, but were forcefully countered by the French, who
2 preferred Hitomi Nozoe, an actress mostJapanese do not consider
w beautiful at all. The Japanese probably thought that Fujiko
> Yamamoto, who comes from a well-to-do family, would be popular
among Europeans. However, since she was brought up by maids
who waited on her hand and foot, her calm, gentle disposition is
too different from the boisterous personalities that Europeans or
Americans are used to. Fujiko Yamamoto rarely asserts herself,
usually deferring to her male escort. This trait is probably only
appreciated by Japanese and other Orientals.
Setsuko Hara, one ofJapan's best-loved actresses and a woman
who was always considered a true Japanese beauty, is another
example. I know a young German who was so enraptured with
Ozu's films that he learned Japanese in order to come to Japan
and study them. He felt they were perfect except for one glaring
flaw: Setsuko Hara. Even Donald Richie, the foremost American
critic of Japanese films, once told me that he found her constant
and often incongruous solemnity strange,
gg Reflecting upon suchopinions, oneisforced to admit that Setsu
ko Hara's performance was too solemn and stiff. Although this
seemed unpalatable to Westerners, to the Japanese she embodied
that spiritual tenacity which made it possible for Japan to attain
the economic level of the West. She reminds us of the suffering of
Japanese who had to bear much psychological strain during the
modernization process. While such an aesthetic consciousness
might appear forced and pretentious to the more advanced
Westerner, to the Japanese such sincerity was the mark of true
beauty in a woman. Perhaps this aesthetic sense is exclusively
Japanese, for Setsuko Hara appeared most beautiful when she
played a schoolteacher, the role most symbolic of modernization.
Fujiko Yamamoto is another actress who gives the impression
of sobering sincerity. Both women have faces that show little 3
emotion, thus attesting to single-mindedness of purpose. These S
characteristics are said to be typical of the women of the old W
Japanese bourgeoisie, the upper- and upper-middle-class families, g
and the beauty of both women depends on the manner in which 5
they embody this personality, not on the shape of their nose or w
their eyes.
In modern Japan, where success in university entrance ex
aminations is the key to future success, a family's fortunes can
decline after a generation or two if the men fail in this fierce
competition. While the members of such a family may appear
nonchalant on the surface, they are all keenly aware of the ever-
present danger of downfall. Consequently, their women are not
only expected to have the spiritual strength necessary to endure
the insecurities of life but also the nobility and grace appropriate
to their station. These characteristics are a part of the unconscious
criteria of the Japanese in judging feminine charm, and when
all these qualities are integrated in one personality, such a woman
is called a ''bourgeois beauty." Together with the common-
woman type of beauty to be dealt with shortly, she reigned over the
hearts of all Japanese men.
Besides Fujiko Yamamoto and Setsuko Hara, Keiko Kishi,
Shiho Fujimura, Yoshiko Kuga, Kyoko Kagawa, and many other
successful actresses have absorbed this air of bourgeois anguish,
and consequently radiate an austere beauty—the result of
unwavering endurance of misfortune. When, for instance, Yoshiko
Kuga plays the wife in some mundane household, audiences as 89
sume she has suffered terribly because she has the image of a
well-born girl, and her uniquely Japanese beauty is apparent in
that subtle smile that transforms her anguish into tenaciousness.
Mieko Takamine was perhaps the first actress to convey this
beauty in such films as Kozaburo Yoshimura's Warm Current
{Danryu, 1939) and Ozu's The Brothers and Sisters of the Toda Family
[Toda-ke no Kyodai, 1941). She and others like her were favorites of
young Japanese intellectuals from not very affluent homes. They
were probably dreaming of rescuing such a brave, gallant girl
from the inevitable downfall of her upper-class family.
In Warm Current a young man is torn between marrying a girl
from a declining bourgeois family (Mieko Takamine) or a nurse
§ (Mitsuko Mito) from his own class. He finally picks the nurse.
^ This was the romantic dilemma of the time; and Kurosawa's
§ No Regrets for Our Youth was a postwar example of this kind of
romance without the dilemma, for in it the daughter (Setsuko
§ Kara) of a famous university professor decides to marry an anti-
^ war leader from a farming family.
^ Since the social mobility in modern Japan allows lower- and
§ lower-middle-class families to pursue the dream of rising socially,
w the women of such classes are expected to show fierce determina-
2 tion and pride. Among those actresses who radiate these qualities
w are Kinuyo Tanaka, Isuzu Yamada, Machiko Kyo, and Ayako
> Wakao. Without exception, all of them made their debut as
sweet, virginal maidens. In time, however, as their acting ability
developed, they all glowed with determination on the screen.
With Kinuyo Tanaka this transformation is apparent in Mizo-
guchi's The Woman of Osaka {Naniwa Onna, 1940); for Isuzu Yama
da in Osaka Elegy; for Machiko Kyo in Yoshimura's Clothes of
Deception [Itsuwareru Seiso^ 1951); and for Ayako Wakao in Yasu-
zo Masumura's A Wife Confesses {Tsuma wa Kokuhaku Suru^ 1961).
They may not have come from lower-class families themselves.
Kinuyo Tanaka, for instance, was born into a wealthy provin
cial family that fell on hard times, and her successstems from her de
termination to restore the family name and recoup its losses. All that
is required is for these actresses to project the stubborn vitality
of the rising social classes.
The women portrayed by the above actresses are peculiarly
90 J^P^-nese. They complain bitterly of their hard lot as women, yet
do not despair over the egoism of their men. Instead, they actually
lead or goad them to make more money, or even to foment rev
olution. In prewar films this stubborn type was often a woman
who struggled against becoming the servile wife in a feudal
household. In postwar films, however, she took the negative form
of a geisha or bar hostess who refuses to give in to overbearing
men and actually makes a profession out of getting the better of
them.
In Kon Ichikawa's Bonchi {Bonchiy 1960) and the television
version of Side Canal [Yokoborigawa^ 1966), there are startling por
trayals of the vitality of merchant wives who are more influential
in the family business than their husbands. This should come as
no surprise, since even in feudal times only samurai husbands had 3
absolute preeminence over their wives; a merchant husband ^
and wife often had to work side by side. The difference between W
merchant and samurai family backgrounds is exemplified by g
Kurosawa and Keisuke Kinoshita. The former was the son of a ^
w
military calisthenics instructor, and he created almost nothing but
male-oriented films, whereas the latter was the son of a wholesale
grocer, and specialized in films about women.
Since films nowadays are aimed at the young, the tradition
of the proud, determined merchant wife is only allowed to
flourish in family-oriented television drama. There, actresses like
Junko Ikeuchi, Masako Kyozuka, and Haruko Sugimura ex
hibit the powerful position and prestige of middle-aged women
in ordinary households, and the special charm they communicate
is something that had not existed before in dramas about women.
In the postwar era the distinction between the bourgeois and
commoner type of beauty was not always so clear. Still, the fol
lowing films best display the spirit of the modern Japanese wom
an, be it the fierce determination of the commoner, the perse
verance of the austere beauty, or both. Kinugasa's Actress {Joyu,
1947), Ozu's Late Spring [Banshun^ 1949) and other films starring
Setsuko Hara, Yoshimura's Night River {Torn no Kawa, 1956),
and Ichikawa's Her Brother {Ototo, 1960) are all films with heroines
who are beautiful because they embody all the virtues that their
men lack. This forms another kind of worship of womanhood,
and its last expression is seen in Yoshishige Yoshida's Akizu Hot
Springs [Akizu Onsen, 1962). gj
The hero of this film is a young intellectual who believes that
Japan's defeat in World War II is actually a liberation, but he
becomes a philistine and loses his ideals amid the turmoil and
confusion of the immediate postwar era. In contrast, the heroine is
a simple young girl who sincerely grieved over the defeat and
now grieves over his loss of ideals. She continues to watch over
him, until she loses all hope and commits suicide.
The denouement of this film is symbolic of a major change in
postwar Japan. Up until the early 1960s such dispirited men in
Japanese cinema were often contrasted with persevering heroines
who had a rather drab kind of courage. However, ever since the
Japanese realized that they had built an affluent society unparal-
§ leled by any in their past, this contrast ceased to appear. In
^ fact, it seemed to vanish with the suicide of this heroine. There-
§ after, the call for Japanese men to recover their self-confidence
S was increasingly heard in the mass media. However, this call for
S a rejuvenation of masculinity may simply be to cover up the fact
^ that Japanese men, like the hero in Akizu Hot Springs, have lost
> their humble aspirations of the immediate postwar period,
w
t/3
W

g 4. WOMEN AND KARMA

w When the karma, or inevitability, of a woman's life was depicted
> in Japanese film it was done with a combination of sympathy for
her misfortune and admiration for her spiritual tenacity. This
view of women reached its ultimate expression in the following
films directed by Mikio Naruse: Lightning [Inazuma, 1952), Older
Brother, Younger Sister {Ani Imoto, 1953), and Floating Clouds {Uki-
gumo, 1955). c
The heroine of Lightning is a guide for a Tokyo tour bus com
pany. She detests her mother, who had all her children by dif
ferent men and, feeling that her wayward brothers and sisters
are no better, she tries to leave her sordid family to live alone.
Yet in the end she cannot sever the relationship with her mother,
and one is even left with the impression that she will someday find
contentment in a grumbling but persevering existence.
Older Brother, Younger Sister begins when a loose-living woman
returns to her parental home on the outskirts of Tokyo along
92 the Tama River. Her brother, a laborer, feels sorry for her but,
nevertheless, maintains a gruff exterior, to the extent of even
beating her up. Sulking over the beating, she comes to under
stand how much he loves her, and feels relief. This does not
mean that she will mend her ways, however, for in the end one is
certain that she will return to her former life-style. Only her
intelligent younger sister really knows how unfortunate she is
and feels sorry for her.
In the above films the loose mother and the fallen sister are
representative of Naruse's women, who neither reform nor make
any progress in life. Naruse did not believe in human develop
ment. For him life is simply a string of foolishnesses, and however
hard one tries to avoid it, one cannot escape fate. Naruse did
not despair of life, for he saw nothing wrong in the foolishnesses 13
one commits through love of life. By rejecting progress and loving S
life, one can attain a fulfillment that cannot be mocked. 3
w
At the core of this view is tenacity, not fatalism, and this is §
best expressed in Floating Clouds through the heroine (Hideko §
Takamine). During World War II she has an affair in Vietnam ^
with a married Japanese engineer sent there by the government.
Their hopeless relationship continues after their return to
Japan. The man fails in his attempt to start his own business
and walks about with a constant gloomy expression, trying
to pick up other women even though he cannot provide for
them adequately. Although it is a mystery what the heroine
sees in him, she sticks with him to the bitter end. When he is
finally offered a position on some faraway, isolated island, she
follows him there in spite of her illness, and soon after their arrival
dies alone, without the benefit of medical care, in a government
housing facility.
While there is no denying that this is a tale of an extremely
foolish woman, one never feels that she should have sought another
kind of life. Instead, the audience is moved by her love for a
worthless, lackluster man, and by the fact that their relationship
was formed solely through her totally uncalculating, irrational
tenacity. In Naruse's films the relationship between a man and a
woman is usually portrayed as a precarious one. However, it
is held together by a kind of persistence, too tough for such a
pretty label as love and much more precious than progress or
intelligence. Thus, the apparently foolish woman in Floating Clouds 93
is respected precisely because of her blind persistence. Japanese
women are admired for this unglamorous emotion, and within
it, unexpectedly, spiritual security can be achieved.

5. WOMEN AND FREEDOM

The central figure of the main plot in Yoshishige Yoshida's mas
terpiece, Eros Plus Massacre [Erosu Purasu Gyakusatsu, 1970), is
the prewar Japanese revolutionary Sakae Osugi. An anarchist,
Osugi was against private property, and since monogamy fell
into the same category, he also advocated free love. During one
period of his life he had a continuing relationship with three
§ different women: Yasuko Hori, Itsuko Masaoka, and Noe Ito, the
^ latter of whom was assassinated with him by the military police
§ amid the turmoil following the Great Kanto Earthquake of 1923.
M Into this story of a historical figure, Yoshida interjects a drama
3 concerning the empty pursuit of free sex among contemporary
^ youth. The main character of this subplot is a college girl who is
> doing research on the Taisho era (1912-26) and is particularly
§ interested in Osugi's practice offree love. At one point in the film
W she interviews a young woman who is supposed to be the child of
Q the liaison between Osugi and Noe Ito, but who was obviously
w not born over fifty years ago. The surrealistic handling of this
> scene suggests that historical events may be filtered through the
imagination of this college girl, and thus bear contemporary
relevance.
Yoshida presents Osugi as a melancholy figure rendered poli
tically inactive by the intense oppression of his time. However,
Osugi does not merely consider revolution in terms of political
reform, for him it is also the complete liberation of all human
sensibilities. In a scene with Toshihiko Sakai, a revolutionary
socialist, Osugi states: 'T want to reach the pinnacle of life.
In that instant we will seize the ecstasy of freedom. A labor strike
is not necessary to seize that ecstasy. We need individual
courage and the outbreak of a general strike based on passionate
zeal. Then, indeed, will the workers be freed from their centuries-old
slavery. Then they can become the creators of their own history
and values."
Sakai replies banteringly (actually making a pun on the
Japanese word sei which means both life and sex): "You can't
be serious, my dear Osugi. What you're saying does not go be
yond the realm of the sensual and the literary. You seem to be
advocating a philosophy of life {sei), but someone has said that
the sei you mean is sex."
In the following scene with Itsuko Masaoka, Osugi explains his
ideas on free love.
"I should have told you this when I first fell in love with you.
I have a wife named Yasuko. She's an old-fashioned, uneducated
woman, but she has the proper disposition for the wife of a rev
olutionary. I've placed burdens on her. I also love her. I love
you in the same way."
 "You love Noe in the same way, too. It's all right with me. p
I am truly happy for you." ^
"Good, I think allfour ofus can get along well together. That is, §
as long as we maintain three conditions." ^
"What are they?" §
"First, all of us should be financially independent. Second, we ^
will all keep separate residences. Third, we will respect each
other's freedom, which, of course, includes sexual freedom."
Itsuko makes no reply.
"I have a lot of friends," he continues, "but none of them ever
complains that I favor one over another, since I relate to all
of them equally. Our love, too, will live on the same basis of
equality and freedom."
For the contemporary college girl, as for director Yoshida him
self, Sakae Osugi's perilous course of life in Taisho society was
the result of these ideas, for which he was even criticized by fellow
revolutionaries like Toshihiko Sakai. Although his political
thought is no longer valid, his ideas on free love are still relevant,
as seen in the relationship of economic independence to women's
liberation. Still, while Osugi thought that recognition of one
another's right to an independent existence would lead to freedom,
the women concerned did not accept this and the situation pro
voked intense jealousy. The rivalry between the women built
up to the incident at the Hikage Chaya Inn, where Osugi was
stabbed by Noe Ito. This forms the climax of the film and Yoshida
handles it in a surrealistic manner, demonstrating his originality
and raising an important issue. 95
While it is a historical fact that Itsuko Masaoka (not her real
name) stabbed Sakae Osugi causing him serious injuries, in the
film it is suggested that she only attacked her lover's view of re
volution itself. In this regard, the supposition that Noe Ito stabbed
him is reasonable, since she had been most influenced by his
ideas. Furthermore, Itsuko indicates that Osugi was also aware
of the significance of their actions, and it can even be assumed
that with the help of the two women, he attempted suicide for the
following reasons.
Revolution is the overthrow of established authority. However,
those who seize power become like their predecessors, and no
changes are effected. Accordingly, if a revolutionary attempts to
3 pursue revolution all the way, in the end he must negate him-
^ self. The same holds for free love. By rejecting a monopoly of
§ sex, one secures the freedom of sex. However, a situation then
w occurs where there is free competition for sex. Although Osugi
§ said he would love all three women equally, he was not able to
^ accomplish this. Even if he did, from the standpoint of his politics
> it would be tantamount to a rich person monopolizing many
§ women while a poor person has trouble finding one. This insis
ts tence upon sexual freedom led to a desperate struggle in which
2 Itsuko hurt Osugi's wife, Yasuko, and then Noe hurt them both,
w This struggle made them even more aware of the desire for pri-
> vate ownership, in the sense of monopolizing a love object, a
desire they were supposed to have abandoned.
This was especially true for Noe Ito, who sought liberation more
than the others. As Osugi himself said, she had won and had taken
over the position of his wife, but that was what she detested most,
for possession of another human being contradicts freedom. Still,
while Noe reached the extreme of this desire for private owner
ship, she was also possessed by the vision of dying with Osugi as a
means of negating it, since in the midst of the surrealistic climax
she reminded everyone of the historical fact that she was the
woman Osugi was actually killed with. Furthermore, in the
scene where Noe kisses the fallen Osugi on the forehead she re
veals that her possession of him was also his possession of her and
that she had to kill him to be free of it.
For Noe, her freedom could only be obtained at the expense of
95 Osugi's and herein lies the contradiction. If each person insists
upon his or her absolute freedom, it will only result in a violent
competition where the strong win and the weak lose. Then again,
we never know when the weak will revenge themselves upon the
strong. At this juncture enters the concept, ''All men are equal,"
and the freedom of the strong is restricted in order to avoid an
other selfish struggle. The words "freedom" and "equality" are
often uttered in the same breath, as though they are inseparable,
yet, actually, they are contradictory concepts.
Osugi's theory of free love was put into practice on the pretext
of equal love for a number of women. However, in reality, this
soon became a free competition for love which brought about
a chain of selfish disputes and vindictive acts, inevitably restricting
all parties involved. In short, the desire for more freedom led 3
to a condition that was exactly its opposite. ^
The desire to win, or at least not to be outdone by an opponent, ®
probably even distorts the value of the object won in the ensuing §
competition. Noe Ito may have been wondering why she had to §
go to such lengths to win Osugi's love orwhy he was so important. ^
In this way perhaps she did stab Osugi more out of a desire to be
free of him than to monopolize his love. Nevertheless, her action
is also probably a manifestation of the competitive vanity of a
woman who wants to outdo her opponent, Itsuko, whose feelings
toward Osugi were simply possessive.
When Yoshida examined the concept of freedom and found
that at some time or other it would become transformed into an
opposite concept, it did not stop the main characters in Eros Plus
Massacre from their pursuit. When they realize that absolute
freedom is at the same time absolute self-negation, however, their
only recourse seems to be suicide, either alone or with someone, or
similar self-destructive behavior.
The analysis of Eros Plus Massacre would end there were it not
for the subplot concerning the free sex of some contemporary
youths. This was a vain, empty act because once they attain a
sexual relationship, they lose their dream of obtaining something
else from their partner. For human beings the opposite sex is not
a mere sensual object, but also an ideal of domestic order, a source
of honor or glory, a sense of security in life, a psychological or
spiritual support, and so on; and all these dreams or ideals are
probably crystallized in the emotion of love. As such, free sex is 97
connected with the loss of ideals in the opposite sex. This issue
becomes more important than that of free competition for love,
and is alluded to in the first half of the film by Jun Tsuji, a bohe-
mian poet who was Noe Ito's former husband.
"Both modernization and women's liberation will probably
be achieved someday. I don't know whether it will take fifty or
seventy years. Even now in 1916 locomotives run as far as Kyushu.
Yet I wonder where that intense beam of light comes from,
that beam of light which is transforming the ego from the inside
into an empty thing. When the day comes when women are
liberated, I feel that the emptiness of this ego will expand in
correspondence with the times. Even though fifty years from now
Q we will be more advanced, it will still come to that."
^ In Eros Plus Massacre a twofold, tragic doubt is raised concern-
^ ing the concept of freedom. First, there is the contradiction that
self-negation may lie at the other extremity of freedom. Second,
g when we lose the visions or ideals we should passionately seek,
^ freedom itself will become a meaningless, empty thing.
^ Yoshida had dealt with these problems in his previous films, the
§ two most widely acclaimed ones being Akizu Hot Springs, where
w the heroine commits suicide when she realizes that the man she
G loves would never recover his lost ideals, and A Story Written on
w Water {Mizu de Kakareta Monogatari, 1965), where the heroine lives
> an affluent life but, nevertheless, often feels it is meaningless.
As the plot unfolds, she marries off her son to the daughter
of the man she is having an affair with. When her son learns of
this, he leaves his wife and returns to his mother's house and rapes
her. The following morning the mother commits suicide. While
guilt over the incest might have been a cause, the heroine had
also exerted her freedom beyond the realm of common sense and
in the end was seized with a feeling of emptiness.
The problem of doubt in ideals about the opposite sex was
well depicted in two of Yoshida's rather unsuccessful films of 1967,
The Affair{Joen) and Impasse [Honoho to Onna). In both, a supposedly
contented, upper-middle-class housewife has an affair with a
laborer for sexual satisfaction. Neither heroine believes she can
find a dream in the opposite sex, and both are tormented by the
thought that all such dreams and ideals are illusions. In order to
gg test this, they have to sleep with a laborer they meet by chance,
someone who, in their minds, is just the opposite of those ideals.
The grand compilation of the themes in Yoshida's previous
works lies in Eros Plus Massacre because it poses the question:
what remains after all the visions of freedom and idealized rela
tions are negated? The answer is Eros, which drives human beings
on toward dreams of more and more freedom and whose all-out
pursuit must lead in the end to self-negation. In Yoshida's other
films, he portrays women in crises, women who are frightened
by the loss of these ideals. -Then, he was showing us one side
of the modern condition, for people were losing faith in each other
as they became more individualistic and as human relations in
the family and society were losing cohesion. Finally, in Eros Plus
Massacre, with the portrayal of Noe Ito, a woman driven by the 3
passionate ideal of greater freedom, the visionless modern age g!
stands out in bold relief, and Yoshida presents us with the g
terrifying question ofwhat form future civilization will take when g
it has lost all ideals in human relations. S
W

99
 a
Japanese War Films

1. "NATIONAL POLICY FILMS"

jQQ From the outbreak of the Sino-Japanese War in 1937 until 1945,
the Japanese film industry was thrust under the control of the
Ministry of Home Affairs and the Media Section of the Imperial
Army. The tough censorship of previous years increased in se
verity with the passing, in 1939, of the all-encompassing Motion
Picture Law. Consequently, both the Home Ministry and the
army, which had been heavily subsidizing the film industry, could
force out of business any errant movie company; actors could
also be fired and directors subjected to harassment. The authori
ties not only viewed every film made but also engaged in pre-
production script censorship. Thus, film-makers were forced to
operate within this ironclad framework. One director who broke
the rules was Fumio Kamei, whose Fighting Soldiers {Tatakau Hei-
tai^ 1940) depicted the tragic side of war. Kamei was stripped of
his position as director and left idle until the end of the war. An- ^
other case concerned Yasujiro Ozu's 1939 script for The Flavor of §
Green Tea over Rice {Ochazuke no Aji)^ about a man who, on the eve w
of his induction into the army, sits down with his flustered wife ^
to share this rather plain rice dish. The censors condemned the ^
''purposely flippant" treatment of this scene, stating that the 3
festive red-bean-and-rice dish would have been more appropriate. ^
Ozu balked at this meddling and set his script aside until the war
was over.

Censorship tightened even more in 1940, with the issuance by

the Home Ministry of the following instructions concerning film
making.
1. The authorities hope that the citizens will be shown healthy
entertainment films with positive themes.
2. While not restricted at present, screen appearances by
comedians and satirists should not increase.
3. Films about the petty bourgeoisie and the wealthy, and those
extolling private happiness are hereby prohibited, along with
scenes of women smoking, cabaret life, frivolous behavior, and
dialogues including many foreign words.
4. Films depicting the productive sectors of national life, es
pecially agriculture, are to be encouraged.
5. Preproduction inspection of all scenarios shall be rigorously
followed, and if violations are found, rewriting shall be ordered
to correct them.
This new policy served to abolish the urban love story or melo- jq^
drama, one of the most profitable film genres, and resulted in the
almost exclusive production of "national policy films" {kokusaku
eiga). The first of the three main characteristics that distinguish
these films is the vagueness of the image of the enemy. Countries
at war use the cinema as a tool for arousing hostility and hatred
by depicting the enemy as cruel and inhuman, as in American
propaganda war films where stereotyped Japanese soldiers were
depicted as slant-eyed Orientals with hideous, barbaric grins. In
national policy films, however, the enemy is usually shown at a
great distance, such as Chinese soldiers shooting at Japanese pi
lots as they make a forced landing in Yutaka Abe's Flaming Sky
[Moyuru Ozora, 1940). In Tomotaka Tasaka's Five Scouts {Gonin no
 g Sekkohei, 1938) the enemy is represented by a burst of machine-gun
^ fire or a few scattered corpses. In Kajiro Yamamoto's series ofair
^ battle films, beginning with his famous The War at Seafrom Hawaii
to Malaya [Hawaii-Marei Oki Kaisen, 1942), the enemy is represented
2 by planes and warships, and in Kozaburo Yoshimura's The Story
of Tank Commander Nishizumi {JVishizumi Senshacho-den, 1940) the
^ closest look at the enemy is the back of a dying Chinese soldier
§ who shoots the hero as he measures the depth of a small
w stream. Such fleeting glimpses of the enemy could hardly incite
Q emotional responses and, consequently, there is little sus-
w pense in these war movies. In only a few exceptions, such as
> Masato Koga's The Tiger of Malaya {Marei no Tora, 1943) and
Masahiro Makino's The Opium War {Ahen Senso, 1943), were enemy
soldiers seen torturing Japanese soldiers or civilians, but since
Koga's film was an action thriller and Makino's a historical
spectacle, they are somewhat outside the genre of national policy
films.
A second characteristic of this genre, and one cause of its
favorable postwar appraisal, is its concentration on the human
side ofJapanese soldiers, such as in the film mentioned above by
Tasaka, who insisted on emphasizing the comradely bonds be
tween them. In Akira Iwasaki's 1961 review of The Story of Tank
Commander Nishizumi (from Film History \^Eiga-shi'\, Toyo Keizai
Company, 1961), the film-makers are praised for presenting the
human side of Chinese soldiers and civilians, too.
"The film turns into a hymn to the warrior spirit, as the authori-
2Q2 ties intended it. However, Yoshimura and his scriptwriter, Kogo
Noda, tried to follow their consciences as much as they could.
They attempted to portray the human side of Nishizumi rather
than to exaggerate his heroism. In scenes where Chinese farmers
are fleeing the onslaught of war, we can glimpse their somewhat
weak, but consistent feelings. Also, the shots taken from behind
the Chinese soldiers who are desperately blasting away at a
ferocious assault byJapanese tanks are unforgettable. While short,
it achieved something previously unknown in Japanese war films
in that it showed us the Japanese attack from the position of the
Chinese, that is, the Japanese being viewed as the enemy. Yoshi
mura, although working on a project tailored to the purposes of
the authorities, manages to maintain his artistic integrity."
 It is evident that leading directors like Yoshimura did not want ^
to make simplistic agit-prop films or try to arouse hatred, since >
the enemy was hardly ever shown. Still, their films served the war §
effort by taking up the problem of how to die bravely in battle, w
They created a uniquely Japanese form of cinematic propa- ^
ganda by treating war as a kind of spiritual training, a third ^
characteristic of national policy films. 2
Training scenes were an important part of many Japanese war g
films and The War at Sea from Hawaii to Malaya was no exception.
As a sixth grader, I was so impressed by its semidocumentary
treatment of pilot training that a few years later I enrolled in a
similar Air Cadet Pre-Training School. However, my actual ex
perience was entirely different, and each day was filled with brutal
punishment. We were subjected to repeated slaps on the face
and to the torture of endless calisthenics, and the NCOs constantly
hit us with staves and ropes, often for personal gratification. This
kind of torment caused a strange reaction among many of the
boys. At first they would proudly mutter to themselves, ''You bas
tards can't break me!" But later they turned into pure masochists,
only thinking, "Watch this! I'm going to show you what real
bravery is!" The film had not only ignored the brutality of such
training but also its cruel method of eliciting submission.
The War at Seafrom Hawaii to Malaya was revived in the mid-
1960s and was a popular success, perhaps because audiences
wanted to see Japan represented as a strong nation again. Then,
too, while most modern Japanese are pacifists, there is the myth
that their soldiers had fought with burning, patriotic zeal since jq^
few films conveyed the actual degeneration of people through
war. Yet although young people may have admired the film's
sense of purpose, they also felt the monotony of the training scenes,
accustomed as they are to the strong stimuli of contemporary war
movies.
This monotony was very much part and parcel of Mud andSol
diers {Tsuchi to Heitaiy 1939), where the battlefield itself was the
training ground for the human spirit. Director Tomotaka Tasaka
had actually gone to observe the fighting at the China front, and
discovered that "war is mostly walking." Consequently, most of
this film consists of foot soldiers marching along mud roads. Battle
scenes are captured in newsreel fashion, with long shots of shells
 g exploding in the distance. The monotonous activity of marching,
^ seen as spiritual discipline, is what is valued most. In this film
^ Tasaka hardly even touches upon the issue of the purpose of the
v/ar. His theme is simply that within the earnest repetition of a
§ single activity, the spirit becomes subjugated, and at this juncture
^ one discards one's ego and discovers a way of awakening to the
^ love of one's fellow soldiers. This aesthetic is not only seen in
§ Mud and Soldiers, but also in Tasaka's Navy {Kaigun, 1943), in
w Keisuke Kinoshita's Army [Rikugun, 1944), as well as in most Japa-
2 nese war films,
w

2. THE POSTWAR "CONVERSION"

The majority of Japanese film-makers, who had cooperated with
the war effort, complied once more with the wishes of the Occu
pation forces in 1945, which ordered films with democracy as their
theme. Although these films were merely typical of the transition
from war-time patriotism to postwar democracy, this ''conversion"
still warrants further consideration. Conversion was a grave,
exacting issue for scholars and men of letters, but not for direc
tors and scriptwriters, who were not hounded during the years of
Occupation censorship since responsibility for war-time coopera
tion lay with film company executives, many of whom were
purged from the business.
One reason why directors were not held responsible is because
film was a saleable commodity, true even of leftist films made from
jQ^ 1929 to 1931. With the better organization of the industry in the
1930s, directors were often ordered by film companies to produce
commercial successes regardless of whether they agreed with the
contents or not. Thus, directors had the excuse that their national
policy films were made in compliance with company orders.
A second reason directors escaped scrutiny was that since movie
production is a group endeavor, it is difficult to pinpoint individual
responsibilities. When a group as a whole starts to move in a
certain direction, it is difficult for an individual to maintain an
opposing position. Moreover, when an individual changes his
ideological stand with the rest of his group, his capacity for self-
criticism is comparatively weakened.
Considering these two factors, the about-face by some of Ja-
pan's leading directors in the space of a few years is probably ^
not so startling. Consider Kurosawa, who in 1945 made Sanshiro ^
Sugata^ Part II {^oku Sugata Sanshiro)^ in which he depicted the §
victory of a Japanese judo expert over a hairy, apelike Caucasian w
boxer. In 1946, one year later, he made No Regretsfor Our Youth, ^
about a heroic champion of the antiwar movement in prewar ^
Japan. Tadashi Imai in 1942 made The Suicide Troops of the 3
Watchtower {Boro no Kesshitai), a stirring portrayal of Japanese S
security troops giving Korean partisans their just desserts, and in
1946 he made An Enemy of the People {Minshu no Teki), involving
impeachment of Japan's war-time leaders. In 1942 Satsuo Yama-
moto's A Triumph of Wings [Tsubasa no Gaika) praised the bravery
of the Falcon fighter pilots, and in 1947 his codirected (with
Fumio Kamei) War and Peace {Senso to Heiwa) was the definitive
antimilitarist film. In 1944 Keisuke Kinoshita made Army, which,
despite its sentimental emphasis on the soldier's mother, was still
fascist in content. In 1946 he made A Morning with the Osone Family
{Osone-ke no Asa), a tale of the trials and tribulations of a liberal
family during war-time Japan.
It is important to note that the postwar democratic films were
born out of such ,ideological vaultings and were not the products
of a new group of directors. Yet despite the apparent ease of these
conversions, the men concerned suffered for them psychologically,
as revealed in the way they handled their conflicts in later works.
Two notable victims are Kinoshita and Imai.
Initially, it seemed that Kinoshita's postwar conversion was
not accompanied by any grave, psychological problems. He al-
ways did portray basically good, well-meaning people becoming
victims of adverse circumstances, and this was retained even in
his war films. Army ended with a prolonged, tearful scene in which
the frantic mother picks out her son from a troop of marching
soldiers and watches him for as long as possible. Kinoshita had
to succumb to his penchant, even though he probably knew that
it would not be viewed favorably by the censors. In A Morning
with the Osone Family he also sympathized with the sufferings of
good people, as in his films thereafter.
In Carmen's Pure Love [Karumen Junjosu, 1952), however, Kino
shita gives full vent to his bitterness by rejecting pity for the
victim and attacking instead the adverse circumstances them-
 § selves, thereby disavowing his war-time compliance. Carmen's
^ Pure Love was made when the Korean War was coming to an end
§ and rearmament became an urgent, political issue in Japan, with
conservatives proposing a return to the "good old days." Espe-
§ cially memorable is the satirical scene where the widow of a naval
^ officer, a militaristic mama with a noticeable mustache, ecsta-
^ tically sings the Japanese national anthem, Kimigayo^ while gaz-
§ ing reverently upon the little Imperial Navy flag in her Shinto
w family altar. Kinoshita's satire was neither indirect nor clouded
2 by innuendoes. He deals with it forcefully by choosing a well-
w meaning but uneducated stripper as his spokesman to attack the
> philistines who persecute her. By placing himself in the position
of the victim, instead of pitying her, Kinoshita achieved a genu
inely artistic sublimation of his resentment. However, this was
not long-lasting. In Sun and Rose [Taiyo to Bara, 1956), about
juvenile delinquency, and in The Eternal Rainbow [Kono Ten no Mji^
1958), about the life of factory workers at the huge Yahata Iron
Works, the righteous indignation of the victim was supplanted
by pity; and from then on Kinoshita's films lost their moral ten
sion.
Despite fluctuations between pity and indignation, a strikingly
consistent feature of Kinoshita's films is his attitude toward his
characters: he either loves or hates them. He spares no effort in
painting beautiful portraits of those he loves—sad people with
good intentions. However, when his artistic spirit was at its zenith,
he not only thoroughly portrayed those he loved and the circum-
2Qg stances that caused them anguish but also those he despised.
Furthermore, during their confrontation with the "enemy" he
exposes their weak points as they are defeated in the struggle.
In these instances Kinoshita transcends the simple formula of
"the good guys suffering at the hands of the bad guys" to touch
upon the sad core of the human condition. This was most per
fectly expressed in A Japanese Tragedy {Nikon no Higeki^ 1953)
through the mother who commits suicide when abandoned by
her cold-hearted, "postwar" children, and in The Garden of Women
{Onna no Sono, 1954) through two young college girls, one who
goes astray and one who commits suicide as a result of the op
pressive nature of their education under reactionary teachers
and administrators.
 Tadashi Imai has, since the end of the war, consistently made ^
democratic films from a humanistic standpoint, with his successful >
Blue Mountains^ a story of democratically enlightened youth, and w
Until the Day We Meet Again {Mata An Hi Made, 1950), a lyrical ^
treatment of an antiwar theme. Imai had been a communist in ^>
his college days, before the movement was suppressed, rejoining ^
it after the war, and it is debatable how much conversion he p
needed. Being a communist had its democratic side in that, not ^
wishing to become the boss of a clique, Imai never formed his own
team of assistant directors, technicians, etc. On the other hand,
it also had its negative aspect in that he often made films not to
his liking so he or his crew would not be out of a job. Moreover,
on the pretext that he is simply placing his skills at the service of
his company, he has even made films incompatible with his own
ideas, which also occurred during the war.
Regardless of the above, Imai was true to his principles. He quit
after the great labor dispute at Toho studios despite the fact that
he was a top-paid director, preferring to act in concert with
strikers who had been fired. As a victim of the red purge that soon
followed, he was unable to work at the other big studios but
managed to maintain his freedom of expression by becoming a
pioneer in the independent production movement just starting
then. Supporting himself as a junk collector, he joined forces with
the Zenshinza theatrical troupe to make democratic films, the first
being And Yet We Live {Dokkoi Ikiteiru, 1951), a story about Japan's
day laborers.
Despite Imai's independent stance in the postwar era, his ill
feelings about his own responsibility in the war resulted in his
putting more weight on a humanistic and democratic message
than on art or entertainment. The message can take the form of
questioning the misery behind the lives of basically good people,
or of sympathy for unfortunate human beings. In either case the
audience is moved by his sincerity. In the following films, judged
to be among his best, this message is especially clear: Echo School
[Tamabiko Gakko, 1952), the story of a young teacher and his
junior high school students who stick to their ideals by studying
amid poverty in their mountain village; Here Is a Spring {Koko ni
Izumi Ari, 1955), an idealization of the postwar "culture circle,"
showing how its members brought Western classical music to
§ the common people; Darkness at Noon {Mahiru no Ankoku^ IQSG),
^ a film which triggered criticism of the courts and the police; and
§ Kiku and Isamu [Kiku to IsamUy 1959), the story of two children
CO of mixed race raised by a loving grandmother.
S Imai's strength in these films lies in the credibility of his sce-
^ nario, prepared by scriptwriters likeYoko Mizuki, Yasutaro Yagi,
> and Shin Hashimoto, who researched the relevant subjects thor-
w oughly. Imai's characters become lovable human beings, and his
w films are sketches of the daily lives of people whom the audience
2 can easily feel affection for.
^ At the same time, however, Imai has great difficulty in estab-
> lishing an objective distance between himself and his characters.
Consequently, the gang of hoodlums in Darkness at Noon is simply
portrayed as a group of pathetic good boys; the farmers in Rice
{Kome^ 1957) lack much character; and the juvenile delinquents
in A Story of Pure Love [Junai Monogatari^ 1957) become senti
mental images of pure-hearted youths. This lack of objectivity,
which he shares with Kinoshita, sometimes mars the reality of his
best films.
Despite this lack, both Kinoshita, in his films that are critical
of society like Garments Pure Love^ and Imai, in his films with a
democratic message, repudiated their participation in the war
effort. They vindicated themselves by saying in effect that then
they were working against their will and now they are making the
films they really want to. Despite the change in ideology, however,
their artistic spirit did not change, since they usually made good
jQg films even "against their will," and at the core ofthis artistic spir
it was their belief in the solidarity of a common social body.
After the war this belief propelled Imai and Kinoshita to por
tray lovable people who stuck together. In their contemporary
films the adversity of war was replaced by social ills, highlighted
all the more by the suffering of these essentially good people who
helped and heartened each other, and thus withstood the crisis.
The theme of suffering together also appeared in their antiwar
movies like A Morning with the Osone Family and Until the Day We
Meet. In this respect there is not much difference between the
postwar genre of antiwar films and the national policy films made
during the war. Perhaps the only change was replacing scenes of
victory with those of defeat, and this is evident in a comparison
between Imai's The Suicide Troops of the Watchtower and The Tower ^
of Lilies [Himeyuri no To, 1953). In both Imai glorified a group of >
sympathetic, yet tragic, Japanese (the security troops and their w
families in Korea; the schoolgirls in Okinawa), who were under ^
attack (by Korean partisans; by American forces) and faced total ^
annihilation. The only difference was that in the former the
Japanese army comes to their rescue, turning defeat into victory, p
and in the latter the schoolgirls perish. This, however, is only a %
change in circumstance, not in theme.
The Tower of Lilies was a commercial success, as was The War
at Seafrom Hawaii to Malaya, probably because they both extolled
a sentimental love for one's own people. In this regard Kinoshita's
Twenty-four Eyes {JVijushi no Hitomi, 1954) ranks as the greatest
Japanese antiwar film, being a bigger box-office hit than The Tow
er of Lilies, and has probably wrung more tears out of Japanese
audiences than any other postwar film. In Army Kinoshita had
expressed the sadness of a mother seeing her son off to war through
one seemingly endless scene in which he employed a sympathetic
camera on a dolly. In Twenty-four Eyes he replaced this mother
with a woman teacher seeing her former pupils off to war, and
since there were more than one, the sadness therein was multi
plied. Twenty-four Eyes warrants a more detailed treatment be
cause it is not only a chronological account of the daily lives of the
common people in Japan from the rise of militarism until the im
mediate postwar period but also the ultimate expression of the
theme of lovable and loving people suffering together in adverse
circumstances.
109
On April 4, 1928, a young woman teacher named Hisako Gishi
arrives at the primary school in a poor fishing and farming village on
Shodoshima, an island in the Inland Sea. She is on a hard teaching
assignment for one year, with only one other colleague, in an iso
lated branch of the island school on the edge of a promontory.
Arriving in Western clothes and riding a bicycle, she shocks the
inhabitants. In 1928 the dress for teachers and pupils was just
beginning to change from the kimono to Western-style clothes. The
Japanese viewer of that generation would certainly feel a tinge of
nostalgia for those "innocent" bygone days, heightened by the
adorable pupils—five boys and seven girls—the twenty-four eyes
of the title, in their country kimono. Their school song comes on
g the soundtrack then, and when played thereafter recalls this nos-
^ talgic image.
g The youth and cheerfulness of the teacher quickly charm the
children, who give her the nickname Miss Koishi {o means "big"
§ and ko means "small" in Japanese). One day the children decide
^ to play a prank on her by digging and then concealing a hole
^ into which she falls. It backfires, however, when she breaks her
§ Achilles tendon and, since she has to use crutches as a result,
w she is no longer able to commute to the school. About half a month
Q later the children, in secret, decide to visit her boarding-house,
w walking along a narrow, eight-kilometer-long road. They start off
> well enough, but soon tears are shed and sandals broken. Eventually
they see her, however, and this incident further deepens the affec
tion between them. It even made their parents, who had been wor
ried about their disappearance, more congenial toward this teach
er whose Western ways had drawn an unpleasant reaction from
them at first. A commemorative photograph is taken of this class
reunion, and this, along with the school song, would become im
portant symbols throughout the film.
Miss Oishi is transferred to the main school on the island and
is separated from her twelve charges. Four years later, when
they became fifth graders, however, they begin to commute to
the main school and are placed in her care once again. This
occurs around the time of her marriage to a seaman, and the scenes
of her simple country wedding and her fortuitous reunion with
her pupils are both enveloped in the overpowering joy that comes
with the arrival of spring on this small island.
These two scenes of dazzling beauty, the very pictures of peace
and happiness, take place midway during the film. Thereafter,
tragedy sets in, beginning with one of Miss Oishi's male colleagues
who is taken to the police station on suspicion of being a com
munist. She is filled with righteous indignation at the cowardice
of all the teachers from the principal down, when no one defends
him. Then one of her twelve pupils, a girl from a poor family, has
to leave school to work. On the graduation trip to one of the scenic
spots on the island of Shikoku, she runs into this unfortunate girl
at the noodle shop where she works. Then one day, when the
cherry blossoms are in full bloom, two of the boys who have grad
uated visit her. One is wearing a junior high school cap, and the
other that of a young apprentice at a merchant house, and she is
struck by their unusually formal behavior when they leave. >
The above scenes suggest the social conditions ofJapan in the w
early 1930s: the persecution of suspected leftists; the poverty; ^
and the graveness that came with the rise of militarism. Miss ^
Oishi quits soon after her favorite twelve have leftschool, one rea-
son being that the militaristic mood gradually invades the class- p
room. Many of her boy students talk about enlisting in the |
army, and when she disagrees with them they call her a "red"
behind her back. The other reason was that she wants to devote
herself to the duties of a wife andmother. Theyear she quit, 1934,
was an important one in the history ofJapanese education, for it
was then that the government completely suppressed the education
movement for being leftist as well as liberal.
The story then jumps to 1941. Some of the twelve are among
the boys marching off to war, and the Patriotic Women's Asso
ciation is assembled at the island's wharf to see them off. Miss
Oishi is there, too, in her housewife's apron. The boys are board
ing a transport ship. Suddenly, when the band strikes up a nos
talgic melody, the boys burst into tears, as does Miss Oishi.
At this point in the film most Japanese of that generation in
the audience, myself included, become utterly sentimental. Still,
if one coolly reconsiders what has taken place, one cannot deny
that perhaps director Kinoshita is guilty of taking theeasier path
by keeping his heroine cooped up at home from 1934 to the end
of the war. Her reasons for quitting—her pacifist reaction against
militarism and her motherly concern for her own child—are
understandable; yet one wonders what would have happened if
she had continued teaching. I can attempt to guess from my own
experiences, since I myself entered primary school in 1937.
My recollections of my teachers are not too pleasant. One wom
an teacher dressed me down because I had fooled around during
choral practice ofthe nationalistic song for Empire Day (February
11). I also remember the teacher who was in charge of our prep
aration classes for the secondary school entrance examination.
She made us learn and recite in a grave voice something about
"the augustvirtue of His Majesty the Emperor." In short, I can't
remember any primary school teachers like Miss Oishi. Even if
such people had really existed then, they would probably have
 g been forced to resign. Or, if they had continued teaching during
^ the war, they probably would have become like the unpleasant
§ teachers I remember.
Miss Gishi is an idealization, and as such her appeal is strong
§ throughout the film. However, as the main character she is weak
because she drops out of the picture at the most important time,
^ when she should be questioning the responsibility of teachers for
§ indoctrinating their pupils with war-time ideology. Conversely,
w by reducing her responsibilityto nil, the director is able to describe
2 the war from the passive point of view of an innocent victim
w and to turn Twenty-four Eyesinto a tear-jerker.
> For Miss Gishi suffering does not end with the war. The ad
verse circumstances continue, for since she lost her husband to
the war she is a hard-pressed widow with two children to support.
However, the bonds of affection between her and those of the
twelve still alive remain steadfast, and one of them, now a woman
teacher at the main school, gets Miss Gishi a teaching job at the
little schoolhouse on the promontory again. When she steps in
front of her desk to greet the new students, she finds that many
of them are nephews and nieces of her former twelve pupils.
Whenever she begins to talk nostalgically about their aunts and
uncles she bursts into tears and as a result she is nicknamed "Miss
Crybaby."
In the last scene Miss Gishi has a class reunion with the sur
viving seven of her former pupils. Gut comes the commemorative
photograph taken after her accident. When it is shown to the
j youth who lost his sight on the battlefield, he tries to guess the
name of each kimono-clad child as he runs his fingertips over the
photograph. All of a sudden the school song is heard loud and
clear. During this scene there is usually not a dry eye in a Japanese
audience.
Twenty-four Eyes was based on a novel written by Sakae Tsuboi
in 1952, when, despite Japan's abolition of the military as a result
of its defeat, a defense force was being rebuilt in order to supple
ment the decreasing presence of the American army which was
engaged in the Korean War. At that time Japanese pacifism, or
the antiwar movement, took an urgent, concrete form of opposition
to rearmament, not the sentimental one depicted in the film. This
is inferred by the author's epilogue to the novel.
 'I was halfway through this novel when one day, sitting in front >
of my desk, I happened to remember something which made me >
nervous and distressed. It was a newspaper account of the prime w
minister making a speech before the main division of the Security ^
Force on Etchujima. The caption below his photograph, taken ^
from his speech, read: 'You are the foundation of the national ^
army!' " P
Instead oflamenting the fate of "innocent victims" in the war, §
Sakae Tsuboi was more concerned about the likelihood of future
generations becoming willing victims once again. In 1952 Kino-
shita himself had vigorously criticized the reactionary trend of
the times with Carmen's Pure Love; however, in 1954, with Twenty-
four Eyes^ Kinoshita merely contented himself with a sweet, simple
swan song about how good, earnest people suffered on account of
a bad, oppressive government, which was so far away that it was
invisible.
This is not to say that Miss Oishi was not noble and conscien
tious when she quit an education system that was becoming reac
tionary, nor that her twelve pupils were to blame for the war.
Yet it is unlikely that the five of them who became soldiers main
tained their childlike innocence after they went to war. Miss
Oishi remembers one who perished in the battlefield as an in
nocent, smiling schoolboy, a particularly moving image to a
Japanese audience, as if the boy had been killed in all his purity.
However, it does not take much imagination to suppose that these
innocent schoolboys went to their deaths fighting. One wonders
how many enemy soldiers they might have killed, whether they 113
committed any atrocities or engaged in rape or pillage. Japan
had started the war—it was not a matter of us Japanese suffering
at the hands of some unseen power. Yet in Twenty-four Eyes we are
only filled with the emotion that our peaceful lives were disrupted
by the war and that we lost so many pure and sincere young men.
The question of how much damage we did to the enemy is ne
glected entirely. We only feel that we, the Japanese people, were
as innocent as those adorable children and that we suffered griev
ously. The essential point of World War II for us, however, may
be that we were indeed as brutal as our reputation, and that
even those innocent children from the Inland Sea area were perhaps
also brutal in battle.
 § Perhaps Kinoshita was just going along with what has long been
^ common knowledge in the commercial film world, that is, movies
§ belong to the people. Since people do not like to look at ugly self-
H
portraits, their cinematic image must remain untarnished, even
in antiwar films. The people are most beautiful when united to-
gether, when Miss Oishi and the twelve have their class reunions,
^ and when they stick together in a crisis. Kinoshita, Imai, and
§ others probably thought that ifthis premise were rejected, it would
w be impossible to make films that had a democratic message and
Q were a popular artform, and this became one base of the postwar
w antiwar film. Ironically enough, during the war these same direc-
> tors had portrayed as beautiful the solidarity among Japanese
soldiers and civilians, had eulogized it so much that it reached
the stage of spiritual cultivation.
We should not forget two other powerful and unique films
Kinoshita and Imai made in which they revealed their doubts
about the beautiful solidarity of the people: A Japanese Tragedy
and Might Drum {Torn no Tsuzumi, 1958). In A Japanese Tragedy
Kinoshita describes society as it is, making his one truly realistic
film in a social sense. Against the backdrop of history between
1948 and 1953, shown through newsreel clips, he tells the story of
a poor woman who works in bars, totally unaware of politics or
the significance of postwar history. (In this respect, his film was a
forerunner of Shohei Imamura's The Insect Woman and History of
Postwar Japan as Told by a Bar Hostess [Nippon Sengo Shi: Madamu
Omboro no Seikatsu, 1970].) Crawling out of theshell of defeat, with
114 two children to support, this woman strives to make a living,
but when she becomes a disreputable bar waitress, her children
are ashamed of her and abandon her when they grow up. Even
tually she kills herself byjumping in front of an oncoming train.
Here Kinoshita questions the beautiful solidarity of the basic,
common social body, the family, amid the adverse circumstances
of postwar Japan.
In Night Drum Imai turned from beautiful portrayals of soli
darity in contemporary drama to a period drama about the deep
rupture that occurs between a husband and wife who truly love
each other. Based on Monzaemon Chikamatsu's Kabuki tragedy.
The Drum ofthe Waves ofHorikawa, it is the story of a samurai wife
who reluctantly gives herself to a professional drummer she had
been taking lessons from while her husband is in Edo in the ser- >
vice of his lord. When he returns home and finds out about it, >
he wants to forgive her, but as the affair has become public gossip, w
this loss of honor forces him to kill her. After this, however, he ^
faces a desolate future. >
Night Drum is an implicit criticism of feudal morals and cus- ^
toms, such as the samurai code of honor and the system whereby p
all the lords and their retainers had to reside in Edo every other %
year, thus causing tragic rifts between husbands and wives. Under
such situations even the smallest unit of social cohesion, namely
between husband and wife, is difficult to sustain. Imai leaves us
with the sad possibility that human beings will not always remain
good in adverse circumstances.

115
 6
The Meaning of Life !
in Kurosawas Films 1

116 ^ith defeat in World War II, many Japanese, who had made
the objectives of the nation their objectives in life, were dumb
founded to find that the government had lied to them and was
neither just nor dependable. During this uncertain time Akira
Kurosawa, in a series of first-rate films, sustained the people by
his consistent assertion that the meaning of life is not dictated by
the nation but something each individual should discover for him
self through suffering. Ikiru is the clearest expression of not only
this assertion but also of the essence of Kurosawa because he used
his whole range of cinematic techniques to imbue it with all the
themes he felt deeply about.
Apart from the motif of suffering, which will be treated later,
Ikiru's four themes deal with how human beings should live in
order to die contentedly, with bureaucracy's petty rivalries and ^
its inefficiency and its irresponsibility—as well as with the ob- w
sequiousness of bureaucrats toward their superiors and their in- ^
difference to ordinary citizens—with the generation gap between ^
parent and child, and with postwar hedonism. The film centers §
around the major theme—the meaning of life—while the three q
minor themes support its inherent tension and strengthen it by ^
contradicting its idealism and suggesting that real life is different.
However, Kurosawa gives each of the secondary themes equal ^
attention and delineates them all with sharpness and acuity. ^
Take, for example, the theme concerning bureaucracy. Some cj
housewives are shown coming to the municipal office with a pe- O
tition that the sump in their neighborhood be filled and turned ^
into a playground. They are sent from the Citizens Department >
to the Departments of Public Works, Parks, Antiepidemics, and
so on, as one clerk after another refuses to take responsibility.
Probably no other satire on public officials is as acid as this se- ^
quence, nor is any attack on bureaucracy as intense as the scenes
of the wake for the main character. Here the pitiable baseness of
minor officials is revealed by their self-justifications and their
fawning on department heads. Still, it is not Kurosawa's intention
to put down public officials or gloat over them. He is simply dealing
with the meaning of life by forcefully relating how terrifyingly
empty life becomes when work is performed merely out of habit.
The theme of the rupture between parent and child is treated
just as powerfully in the film. An aging father, learning that he
has cancer and does not have long to live wants to relate this to j j y
his son, whom he loves most, and thereby share his sorrow. His
son, however, is only concerned about building a modern home
on his father's retirement pension, and when the father overhears
his son tell his daughter-in-law that they will live elsewhere if
opposed, he realizes he cannot count on his son any longer.
Without a word about his illness, the father goes to his room and
recalls the childhood and youth of his son—the days when a silent
but strong trust existed between them. This short sequence of
flashbacks, an unabashed praise of the bonds between human
beings and the inevitable sorrow therein, underlines the sudden,
postwar collapse of paternal authority and the increase in house
holds where the nuclear family is cherished above all else. Still,
Q Kurosawa is not simply making an emotional plea for the resto-
^ ration of love between parent and child and condemning the
§ egoism of the younger generation. Rather, he is demanding that
his main character cease griping about such things and realize
§ that he has no recourse but to rely on himself.
The treatment of the theme of frantic hedonism in Ikiru is no
^ less spectacular. It is graphically and concentratedly illustrated
§ in the sequence where the main character (played by Takashi
w Shimura), guided by a novelist he chanced to meet, makes the
G rounds of night spots to take his mind off his grief. In these succes-
w sive scenes of an apparently cheap form of degeneracy, Kurosawa
> captures the very shape of that breathless, desperate pleasure-
seeking that was an important aspect of the uncontrolled vitality
of a Japan still in the process of recovery. Japanese of that genera
tion felt that they should enjoy themselves to the utmost in order
to compensate for their war-time experiences and were thus the
forerunners of the so-called economic animals who challenged the
world markets twenty years later.
The hedonistic sequence in Ikiru lasts only about ten minutes;
yet it is as impressive and moving as Federico Fellini's treatment
of the same motif in La Dolce Vita, Although Kurosawa had re
ceived liberal funds from the resurgent film industry, the number
of extras at his disposal was still small compared with those in spec
taculars. With extraordinary skill he created scenes with texture,
conjuring up, amid packed dance halls and cabarets, the feverish
atmosphere of the pursuit of pleasure. The cabaret scene where
jjg Toshiyuki Ichimura plays the piano and Takashi Shimura sings,
is especially noteworthy. The rhythmic modulation of the cine
matic images that accompany the music is so well done that it
seems a pity Kurosawa never turned his hand to musicals.
In this sequence, however, Kurosawa is not simply depicting
the mores of that era. As an expression of the main character's
(and the director's) feverish attachment to life, this frenzied
portrayal of the times is interwoven with the main theme of the
film—the meaning of life. In this way the development of each
secondary theme almost constitutes a separate and powerful film
in its own right. Since these are then subordinated to the central
theme concerning the problem of life and death, Ikiru has the over
whelming effect of a grand symphony composed of several move-
ments. At the very start we are shown an X-ray of the main ^
character's cancerous stomach, and the tragic nature of life is ^
announced point-blank. In significance, this might be compared w
to the opening bars ofBeethoven's Fifth Symphony. ^
In contrast to the consummate skill with which Kurosawa ^
manages the secondary themes of Ikiru, his tone in expounding q
the film's central theme can be called somewhat paradigmatic, ^
moralistic, even didactic. His conclusion is simply that those who ^
sacrifice themselves and live wholeheartedly for other people
and society can die content no matter how plagued by anguish. ^
While true, it is rather embarrassing because it is so correct, and p
the viewer may feel like retaliating by bringing up problems in O
life that are not so easily settled. Kurosawa avoids such a reaction ^
by his subtle treatment of this conclusion. From the words of a sim-
pie, vivacious girl, the main character gets an inkling that the ^
purpose of life should be found in one's work. Thereafter, he be- g
comes animated, like one born anew, and by completely devoting ^
his services to the people who wanted a playground instead of a
sump in their neighborhood, he lives a life above reproach during
his final days and dies contented. These developments are not
depicted objectively, however, but subtly, through the recollec
tions of those who attend his wake.
If the presentation of this character, in all his acquired virtue,
had been direct, the viewer might feel overawed by his nobility of
purpose. However, as it is presented through the ordinary public
officials who attend his wake, we can empathize with those who
admit their own insignificance, wishing that they can share in his j jg
nobility. The fact that they are slightly comical because they have
been drinking makes it easier for us to recognize ourselves in them,
and we can hope to be like his assistant, Kimura, who vows to
carry out his superior's final wishes. Consequently, Ikiru has a two
fold conclusion: it is a powerful cry to us to emulate the virtuous
life of the hero, and it is a whisper to encourage us to at least pre
serve a feeling of respect for the way he lived. In the breadth of
this conclusion we can see Kurosawa's soft touch. He is by no
means making a monotonous moral sermon; rather, the director
himself is unable to make up his mind whether he is like the main
character or like his assistant, Kimura, and many viewers, myself
included, sympathize with his dilemma.
o Both the themes and narrative style of Ikiru have continually
recurred in his other films. The central theme of the purpose of life
^ .
w was taken up in, for example, No Regrets for Our Youth, The Quiet
^ Duel {Shizuka Naru Ketto, 1949), The Idiot {Hakuchi, 1951), Seven
Samurai, and Red Beard {Akahige, 1965). In my opinion its purest
>
expression was in No Regrets for Our Youth and The Idiot, in spite
^ ofthe simplicity ofthe former and the awkwardness ofthe latter.
§ The problem of bureaucracy appeared in Red Beard, where the
w main character, nicknamed Red Beard, is the head of a public
2 hospital during the latter part of the nineteenth century. In the
w original story by Shugoro Yamamoto, Kurosawa seems to have
> been struck by the vision that if the main character in Ikiru had
only lived with vigor from the start and earned a position of
respect, he might have resembled that noble doctor. In High and
Low {Tengoku to Jigoku, 1963) the bureaucracy shown is that of
a private enterprise, not of the government. Its main character,
an executive, single-handedly opposes his colleagues, who plan to
make cheaper products, and stakes his own position on the policy
of producing high-quality goods. He is very much the kind of
character Kurosawa loves because he rejects conforming to the
system and becoming impersonal. The police inspector in the film
is the other side of the coin. As a man who has adapted completely
to the systematized thinking of the modern police force, he be
comes a terrifying, almost grotesque, bureaucrat. However, Kuro
sawa's most forceful criticism of bureaucracy appeared in The
Bad Sleep Well (Warui Yatsu Hodo Yoku Nemuru, 1960), animpeach-
j2q ment of the corrupt ties between government and upper-echelon
management.
The theme of rupture between parents and their children was
shown at its most extreme in the masterpiece Record of a Living
Being [Ikimono no Kiroku, 1955). Although this theme is secondary
to the one of protest against annihilation in a nuclear holocaust,
it managed to dominate and obscure the nuclear war theme,
thereby leading many to regard the film as a failure. However,
in the history of cinema, few, if any, films have presented the crisis
in human relations as well as Record of a Living Being, and for this
reason it should be given proper review and reevaluation.
Kurosawa's most vivid descriptions of the immediate postwar
period were Drunken Angel (Yoidore Tenshi, 1948) and Stray Dog
 {Nora Inn, 1949). The first evokes the anarchistic vitality of the ^
black market district and the second the desolate cityscapes of ^
occupied Tokyo. In both Kurosawa not only grasped the desola- ^
tion of postwar Japan but also drew attention to the feeling of ^
liberation from war-time oppression andfrugality, thus outclassing S
the films ofhis contemporaries. As Japan recovered economically, ^
it became difficult for Kurosawa to pursue the anarchistic and
savagely vital aspect of reality in contemporary drama, and his §
preference for period drama deepened, particularly for those ^
epochs when life was at its most brutal. ^
The dramatic narrative style of Ikiru—the story changing gears C
midway with the death of the main character and the theme o
C/3
pursued through the subjective views of people at his wake— ^
had a powerful precedent in another masterpiece, Rashomon, >
Even the motifofsickness appears inmany films: in Drunken Angel ^
the young hoodlum has tuberculosis; in The Quiet Duel the young P
doctor inadvertently infects himself with syphilis while operating ^
on a soldier in a combat zone; the inept lawyer in Scandal {Sukyan-
daru, 1950) is practically an alcoholic but reforms upon the death
of his tubercular daughter; the main character in The Idiot is a
schizophrenic; in Record of a Living Being the protagonist is a
neurotic; in High andLow a horde of drug addicts appears; and even
in a period drama like Red Beard doctors and patients dominate.
The sickness motif may be the result of Kurosawa's experiences
during the immediate postwar era since both his first war-time
films, Sanshiro Sugata and The Most Beautiful, portrayed a lively,
innocent boy and girl, the epitome ofhealth. As will become evi- J21
dent, this motif is closely related to his main theme concerning
the meaning of life, and also has a bearing on Japan's recovery
from defeat.
After World War II Japanese intellectuals, Kurosawa in
cluded, pondered the rise of militarism, and one heated topic of
debate was whether militarism was the result of the weakness of
the Japanese in asserting themselves as individuals and their ten
dency to go along with the crowd. It was agreed that individuals
should build stronger egos and be more assertive, and Kurosawa,
judging from the following quote concerning his intention in mak
ing No Regrets for Our Youth in 1946 (taken from The Complete
Works of Akira Kurosawa [Kurosawa Akira zensakuhinshu']^ 1980),
g agreed. "I thought that for a new Japan to come into being,
^ women had to have a strong ego, too, and that is why I made the
^ main character a woman who had achieved the objectives she
had set for herself." During the production of this film, however,
§ it seems that Kurosawa's own attempt at self-assertion was hin-
^ dered.
^ At the Toho studios he was affiliated with, the communist-led
§ labor union had seized power and nomovie could be made without
w their consent. Kurosawa cooperated with them, and since he
2 himself, as many other intellectual youths around 1930, had par-
w ticipated in the Communist Party movement, it is not surprising
> that Mo Regretsfor Our Youth touched upon the communist antiwar
movement that lasted until 1945. In 1946, however, one of the
union activists wanted to make a film based on similar material
and union leaders put pressure on Kurosawa to stop working on
No Regrets for Our Youth. Although Kurosawa opposed them and
went on to make the film, he had to change the latter half of the
story as a compromise.
As a result of this experience, it became clear to Kurosawa
that not only militarists but powerful communists could also
crush individual freedom of expression, and he was thereupon
confronted with a dilemma. In Japanese society until the 1960s
communists formed the nucleus of those forces that opposed main
stream society. Most films criticizing social evils were made by
communists, or at least from that viewpoint, advocating that the
evil of the establishment be destroyed through "the solidarity of
^22 the people." However, Kurosawa learned that free self-assertion,
top, could be crushed in the process, and he began to make socially
critical films that rejected "the solidarity of the people."
Since Kurosawa believed it was the individual's responsibility
to criticize society, he was far from communist thought. Yet he
never ceased speaking out on social problems like the terrorism of
gangsters, bureaucracy, nuclear weapons, corruption in business
and government, and so on. He picked a difficult road as we
see .in The Bad Sleep Well, for example, when the main character
tries to fight alone against the evil of a bureaucratic structure, and
thus degenerates into a shallow terrorist. In High and Low, too,
when the police inspector tries to punish the kidnapper more out
of an individual, rather than legal, sense of justice, he lapses into
intolerable "heroism." In Record of a Living Being the plight ofa ^
man who tries to solve the nuclear weapons problem—one in ^
which anindividual solution is virtually unimaginable—proves its §
impossibility and leaves us with a strong, complex answer because ^
he goes insane in the end. 5
If an individual tries to tackle social evils alone, he inevitably q
invites self-annihilation, but at the same time this has a certain
beauty. This motif, appearing frequently in Kurosawa's films,
is another way ofsaying that those who try to assert themselves ^
forcefully should not fear their own destruction. Alack of fear ^
of death and an acute awareness of annihilation can make one act C
even more effectively for justice. This is the most important re- O
quisite for aKurosawa film hero, and it is best fulfilled by the main ^
characters in Ikiru and The Quiet Duel, men who sought to live >
justly while combating grave illnesses. The sick people who ap- ^
pear in his other works are variations of these characters. r
In Kurosawa's imagination the strength of an individual takes m
on the analogy of one who is fighting against grave illness. This
may be eccentric and sentimental, but it reflects a necessary pro
cess through which the Japanese can recover from the shock of
defeat and become independent individuals.
Kurosawa's heroes are often told by those around them that it
is difficult for ordinary people to understand their special way of
life, as in Mo Regrets for Our Youth, Ikiru, Record of a Living Being,
Red Beard, and Dersu Uzala. These main characters do not try to
"establish solidarity" with anyone. They decide for themselves
how they should live and suffer alone from an illness that belongs ^23
only to them. They are human beings who discover the meaning
of life by themselves, and who inevitably appear to others as
either abnormal or sick. Herein lie Kurosawa's criticism of the
Japanese tendency to toe the line and his suggestion that Japan's
recovery from defeat did not have to be only an economic one.
 ':1^

1. KUROSAWA'S FATHERS
j24 In 1942 the National Board of Information selected Kurosawa's
script All Is Quiet {Shizuka Nari) as the winning entry for its annual
award given to scenarios with nationalistic themes. While never
made into a film, it is interesting to examine it since it reveals
several characteristics of his later films, particularly, the close
father-son relationship.
The hero, Keisuke Kikuchi, is a thirty-three-year-old chemist
at a research institute working on processing soybean products.
His father is a patriotic professor of Japanese architecture, who
is especially interested in the connection between the aesthetics of
the Nara temple of Horyuji and the spirit of the Japanese people.
Both father and son are completely immersed in their respective
pursuits.
 On the day that Keisuke's conscription notice arrives, the whole ^
family hides the tension behind a veil of calmness. The father ^
comes home with a bottle of wine to celebrate the occasion. When >
Keisuke returns, father and son chat amiably as if nothing has p
happened. Because they are resigned to the inevitable both men
remain composed, not showing the slightest surprise, for this,
indeed, is the spirit of the Japanese people.
The only matter that disturbs Keisuke is not finding an appro
priate replacement at the institute. For Keisuke, such a man should
not only consider chemical research his duty but also his very
life: "A man who is so impassioned with even such a mundane
subject as soybeans that he is willing to sacrifice his life for it."
He finally decides on Igarashi, a colleague who has published a
treatise that embraced his own theory. The latter, however, as
a result of idle gossip, is suspicious of Keisuke's motives and the
two enter into a heated debate. Consequently, Keisuke spends his
last night before entering the army arguing with Igarashi, after
which they become close friends since they are able to confirm
each other's fervor concerning the processing of soybean products.
Keisuke's love for his sister's friend, Reiko, may also have
weighed on his mind, but during the war the following doctrine
prevailed: Thou shalt not indulge in personal feelings. However,
his mother and sister arrange a morning farewell meeting between
them, cut short because of his late night with Igarashi. Reiko,
therefore, resorts to playing the martial airs of Chopin's Polonaise
to encourage him. In comment, the young Kurosawa wrote,
"One can only wonder where such a brave spirit can have lain J25
hidden in the heart of this shy, young lady."
Keisuke is seen off by his stoic mother, his tearful sister, Yoko,
and Reiko, whose face is drained of color. He turns a street corner
and does not look back. At around the same time, his father is
giving a lecture at the university. "Those buildings idly placed
here and there have no national character," he says. "They are
not works of architecture, but ghostly apparitions. They are merely
boxes to put people in." In contrast, the five-storied pagoda in
Horyuji is an expression of the ideals of Prince Shotoku. "For
more than 1,300 years, this pagoda has given silent testimony to
the beauty inherent in the spirit of the Japanese people. It presents
us with a classical example of the superior qualities of the Jap-
 § anese. Due to its strength, it is silent to the bitter end." The
^ students applaud.
§ Kurosawa, following the rules of the war-time government,
M managed to avoid a show of fanaticism and presented this family
§ drama in a light, humorous vein. However, his insistence on his
characters repressing all their fears about the conscription results
> in some unnaturalness, rendering the work superficial and me-
§ diocre. However, its portrait of the father and the love between
w him and his son is central to all the major works of Kurosawa.
2 Dr. Kikuchi, through excellence in his profession, has become
w a man of elevated character, always able to remain calm in a cri-
> sis. Accordingly, the son becomes devoted to his own profession
and tries to be exactly like his father, aware that he is trying a little
too hard.
This ideal father-son relationship of militaristic Japan appears
in several other war-time films. The father in the home was a micro
cosm of the emperor in the nation: as the emperor was the em
bodiment of virtue, so each father should be a small model of vir
tue. This was hardly the case in reality, as often mediocre fathers
took advantage of this heaven-sent authority to play the tyrant
at home, alienating their children.
This ideal, thought to embody feudalistic thinking, changed
swiftly after the war, when several films were made in response
to the call to overthrow paternal authoritarianism. Yet Kuro
sawa continued to portray noble fathers, or father-substitutes,
even after the war. In his first film Sanshiro Sugata (1943), the judo
126 master Shogoro Yano (Denjiro Okochi) is even more unashamedly
idealized than Dr. Kikuchi. By mastering the secrets of his martial
art, he is able to face any crisis with tranquillity. His disciple
Sanshiro lives with him in the hope of both mastering the art of
judo and being morally influenced by him. Theirs is like an ideal
father-son relationship where the young man is modeling himself
after the old man. In Kurosawa's first film after the war, JVo Re
gretsfor Our Youth, Denjiro Okochi plays a liberal college professor,
who, on the basis of excellence in his profession, remains unper
turbed in times of trouble. Although oppressed by an increasingly
fascist government, he never wavers in his convictions and, after
resigning his university post, lives his life in retirement. His daugh
ter (Setsuko Hara) is so influenced by her father that she marries
a leader ofthe antiwar movement and is persecuted after his death. ^
Kurosawa returns to the fictive father-son relationship, i.e., w
teacher-disciple, in Drunken Angel. At first it is hard to detect any
higher goal in the relationship between the hard-drinking, middle- »—I

aged doctor (Takashi Shimura) and the young hoodlum (Toshiro ^

Mifune) he is treating for tuberculosis. As a young man the doctor
himself had ^'erred" and so he feels sorry for the young hoodlum
and tries to take him under his wing in spite of resistance and
threats of violence. Through his fear of death, the young man
eventually succumbs to the good intentions of the doctor and be
gins to feel respect for him. Since they are. both battling for his
life, their relationship approaches that of a teacher and disciple.
However, at this juncture the old gangleader returns to find that
the young man has forsaken him, and in the ensuing fight the
young man forfeits his life. The doctor and the young hoodlum
fail in their effort to maintain a teacher-disciple relationship be
cause while the doctor is an upright man with an honest occupa
tion, the young man is not. Kurosawa's attitude is that human
beings should refine their characters through their occupations
before they can give or even receive moral training. If this process
is accomplished in an orderly fashion, there is joy and happiness
in Kurosawa's works. However, in the above case, Kurosawa's
drama turns into tragedy.
In this respect, both The Quiet Duel and Stray Dog can be classi
fied among Kurosawa's "joyful" dramas. In the former, the father
is not given a very important role, but he and his son are both
hard-working, dedicated doctors. In Stray Dog the fictive father- ^21
son relationship appears in the paternal affection the cool, calm
veteran cop feels toward his impetuous, reckless charge. The
training he gives him transcends simple guidance to include
character-building. This is especially evident when the young cop
finds out that the suspect he has been tracking is a former soldier
like himself, and he becomes maudlin and sentimental, wonder
ing if he would also have turned to crime in the same circum
stances. The veteran invites him to his house for dinner and, over
a few beers, reassures him that he and the suspect are so different
in character that they are like two different species, thus renewing
the rookie's determination to continue.
Ikiru^ on the other hand, can be regarded as a tragedy
 § because the father is unable to tell his selfish son that he has
^ cancer. Before Ikiru^ Kurosawa portrayed people who were no-
§ ble because of their devotion to their occupation. Excellence
w therein brought forth personal charisma, respect from their chil-
5 dren, and/or the adoration of a worthy disciple. The main char-
^ acter in Ikiru, however, is only a mediocre official who had been
> rubber-stamping documents for years. No one respects him, and
§ even his son only sees himassomeone who will leave a retirement
C/3 .
w pension when he dies. For Kurosawa, this kind of man has to exert
2 himself to the utmost in his occupation before he can really feel
w alive as a human being once again. A warm, touching relation-
> ship with his son is something that could have followed later if
the son was not such a distasteful philistine, with whom strong ties
were not necessary.
Ikiru is one of the high points in Kurosawa's career because he
abandons one of his favorite conceptions—the beauty of trust
between father and son, teacher and disciple—because it cannot
survive in the face of bitter postwar realities and, as such, was
able to create scores of incomparable images brimming with
truth.
For Kurosawa the real culprit in society is none other than the
dissolution of this trust as the younger generation becomes shallow
and flippant. In Ikiru^ however, he does not simply lament this
condition and leave it, for what he detests most is not bringing the
moral to its conclusion. In Ikiru his moral conclusion was that if
modern youth rejects the beauty of the trust between father and
128 son, one should cast them aside without regrets, with the conse
quence that work becomes the sole purpose of life.
Before cutting off his son, however, the father recalls how much
he had loved him in a beautiful, emotion-packed sequence of
flashbacks. He is with his grade-school son in the limousine fol
lowing the hearse of his wife, and when it goes around a corner,
his son cries out, ''Mother has gone away!" Then he remembers
turning down his brother's suggestion that he remarry, for fear
of the effect on his son. There is also the time at the hospital when
he bolsters his son's spirits at an impending appendectomy; and
finally when he was in the stands rooting for him at a junior high
school baseball game, his feelings rose and fell with his son's play.
In this sequence Kurosawa expresses the concept that a beau-
tiful relationship between a parent and child is the most secure ^
form of social order. Tragedy enters the picture when this is lost ^
^Tj
and a rupture occurs. The father's cancer is not Ikiru's tragedy,
only the trigger that forces him to realize that in reality there is r"
no trust between hisson and himself—a fact he has avoided facing
previously.
When this trust is missing, human beings have to bind society
with something that has a more universal meaning, e.g., work for
the public welfare or common good. This is Kurosawa's tragic
but profound theme. When something one loves above all else turns
out to be an illusion, salvation is sought elsewhere, without re
jecting this feeling of loss and in a high state of spiritual tension.
At this juncture is born the nobility of tragedy.
After Ikiru Kurosawa made one more film on the same theme.
Record of a Living Being. Toshiro Mifune plays the owner of a small
factory who is terrified by the news of a hydrogen bomb test and
starts planning to emigrate to South America. This would entail
moving with his legal family and also his two mistresses and their
children. His children and their families, alarmed by the possible
change of life-style, refuse to go and even have him judged insane
when he persists. Eventually the father really goes insane.
In comparison with Ikiru^ a flawlessly executed film. Record of
a Living Being is confusing and filled with inconsistencies. The
primary reason for its failure lies in Kurosawa's attempt to ex
plain the political problem of the hydrogen bomb in terms of the
dissolution of the patriarchal family in Japan. Although the hy
drogen bomb could be considered a family problem in the sense 129
that the nation consists of a number of families, the wide gap
between the two problems renders it difficult to treat together. The
viewer begins to wonder if the father went insane because of his
fear of the bomb or because he met with the opposition of all his
sons when, hopelessly behind the times, he tries to brandish a pa
ternal authority that is already lost. There is even doubt concern
ing the main theme: is it the bomb or the family?
It was Kurosawa's original intention to pose the question:
Why don't people listen to all those warnings about the hydrogen
bomb? However, his cinematic expression took the form of: Why
is the powerful patriarch unable to convince his family of this
terror? This merely confuses the audience, which has never
 § thought of patriarchal authority becoming an issue in such a sit-
^ uation.
§ This father-son relationship is not so obvious in the theme of
w High and Low until the last scene, when the head of a shoe company
§ (Toshiro Mifune) meets the young kidnapper of his son for the first
^ time in the visiting room of the prison. Mifune, through his
^ single-minded devotion to his occupation, has become a man of
M high moral character. In the same face-to-face confrontations in
w other films, the older generation (here the company head) almost
Q always overwhelms the younger generation (represented by the
w kidnapper) with his experience and personal charisma, evoking
> admiration. In High and Low, however, this does not happen, and
the audience misses the refreshing feeling of similar scenes in San-
shiro Sugata and Drunken Angel.
After High and Low came Red Beard in 1965, and Toshiro Mi
fune, the immature confused youth in Drunken Angel, is cast in the
role of the doctor, who is a teacher of life, and the confused youth
role is taken over by Yuzo Kayama, who plays his young intern.
The situation that existed in Sanshiro Sugata is repeated, only this
time the arena is the world of medicine rather than that of judo.
The doctor has the calm, composed air of days of old, seemingly
saying to his intern: "Just be quiet and follow me." Youthful
admiration for the teacher is restored, and the older generation
ceases its fretting over the recalcitrance of youth.
All the vicissitudes in the relationship between father/teacher
and son/disciple seem to converge in Red Beard. Ikiru represented
I3Q the upswing, because the father was cornered into reviving the
noble paternal image lost after the war. From Record of a Living
Being to Red Beard, however, paternal authority is on the decline.
It is as if the Ikiru father, now a noble individual, goes in search
of the son who will admire him again, and when this does not
happen he simply resorts to complaints, daydreaming of the past
when it was possible, as in Red Beard.
The relationship between two persons always features impor
tantly in Kurosawa's dramas because his main characters, usually
men, need an observer of their behavior. A father behaves as a
father should when his son is watching him, and vice versa. In
the presence of such a son, the figure of a father acting as nobly
as he can is surely one of Kurosawa's ideal images; alternatively.
a teacher being observed by his disciple will do just as well. This ^
relationship is important because Kurosawa likes to portray virtu-
ous human beings who exert moral influence, and for Kurosawa, >
the only way to do this is by upright conduct in the presence of S
another, a situation in which the entire personalities of both men
are affected.
In the modern age, unfortunately, many fathers do not conduct
themselves as they should at home since they are only there to
relax. At work it may be different, but there it is difficult to effect
the teacher-disciple relationship since social intercourse between
older and younger colleagues is restricted to the job. One cannot
act nobly and be concerned with the other's human development
as though it were one's own. Consequently, Kurosawa came to
prefer the teacher-disciple relationship in his premodern drama,
where the older man was not only an intellectual mentor but also
a moral one. In contemporary drama Kurosawa chose critical
situations in which the father has to demonstrate the force of his
personality. Ironically, however, although the modern father tries
to exert the utmost influence on his son's character, it is already
too late, and the best he can do is to try to live his own life beyond
reproach. Kurosawa reaches this bitter conclusion in Ikiru, and
in this film is reflected the true situation about the family and
society in modern Japan.

2. OZU'S FATHERS
In contrast to Kurosawa, Yasujiro Ozu presents the dilemma of jgj
a supposedly noble father who disgraces himself in front of his
sons in his masterpiece I Was Born But. . . {Umareie wa Mita
Keredo, 1932). Two young brothers, who have long believed their
father to be faultless find out, through some home movies, that he
acts like a clown at work in order to curry favor with his boss.
They are indignant: "Father, you always tell us to grow up to
be fine and noble, but you don't have any nobility at all, do you?"
At first the father tries to calm them down, but as they are so
persistent, he angrily slaps them. Later he is filled with contrition
as his children have told him the truth.
In Ozu's 1933 masterpiece. Passing Fancy, the young son is teased
at school because his widower father is flirting with a young girl
 g and vents his anger on his father's precious bonsai plant. The
^ father, after returning from the young girl's place, is enraged and
w sends the boy flying across the floor with a slap. The boy gets up,
walks toward his seated father and, without a word, starts slapping
g his father across the face with all his might. The father is startled
and simply stares at him in amazement. Suddenly he realizes the
^ reason behind this and is utterly dismayed. The boy, still con-
§ tinuing to slap him, breaks into tears.
w In his prewar films Ozu almost always portrayed this type of
G father, and The Only Son {Hitori Musuko, 1936) is no exception,
w Here the father is exposed by his own mother, rather than his
> children, and the comic relief present in Ozu's previous films is
almost completely absent. The main character is a night school
teacher in Tokyo who can barely support his wife and child.
Although he had a university education, he lowers his standards
during times of unemployment and becomes resigned to his lot.
His mother, who had made great sacrifices to send him to college,
comes to Tokyo to visit him. While outwardly acting pleased, deep
down she is disappointed at her son's spinelessness. In the end
she reprimands him while they are out on a walk together. The
son tries to use the hard times as an excuse, but he eventually
recognizes his own weakness, and his mother's bitter disappoint
ment chills him like the cold wind blowing across the desolate
area.

While Ozu's depiction of weak-willed men in these three films

is poignantly real, his dethronement of the father figure casts
J22 some aspersions on the prewar patriarchal family system. Accord
ing to official morality, a household called for a strict, authoritar
ian father and a kind, submissive mother. Although not univer
sally upheld by all classes, nevertheless even ordinary families
preferred the noble authoritative type of father. Patriarchal house
holds were commonplace in feudal Japan, and to the extent that
Japan remained feudalistic from 1868 until 1945, they were the
rule then, too. However, they were seldom the theme of movies,
even prewar ones.
Ozu's prewar fathers are not exactly an exception to the rule,
sinceJapanese films seldom portrayed a strong patriarch, such as
the aristocratic figure played by Burt Lancaster in The Leopard,
or a noble type, like the Greek father in Elia Kazan's America,
America^ who preserves the happiness of his family by his ^
carefully thought-out plan for all of them to gradually emigrate ^
to America. >
Examples of patriarchal fathers appear only in period drama p
or Meiji-period (1868-1912) films. In contemporary drama the
father is usually understanding and sagacious, entrusting all do
mestic responsibility to the mother. A lesser example of a con
temporary patriarch can be found in Mikio Naruse's OlderBrother,
Younger Sister, Although the father (Reizaburo Yamamoto) had
been a powerful construction contractor, he is now an old man
who spends most of his time fishing. Since the return of his way
ward daughter he has been in a bad mood and stays away from
the house as often as possible. When he learns from his wife that
the man who got his daughter pregnant has come to visit them,
he hurries home to confront the young man in question, glaring
angrily as he presses him with questions about his responsibility
toward her. This seedy-looking old man suddenly assumes the
dignity of a boss who used to control several hundred laborers
and, as head of a fallen household, endeavors to protect the
family's honor at all costs.
Another lesser example of a contemporary patriarch is the father
in Tomu Uchida's Theater of Life [Jinsei Gekijo, 1936). The proud
household has fallen on bad times, and the only hope now is for
the son to achieve distinction in the future. In order to impress
this fact upon the son the father resorts to suicide, leaving behind
a flowery final testament.
Both these films are set in the early 1920s, and the patriarchs 233
are already fallen old men, not central characters. While the pa
triarchal family system is often referred to in Japanese movies, the
typical patriarch only appears as a nostalgic remnant of the past.
When cast in the leading role in postwar films like Miyoji leki's
Stepbrothers [Ibo Kyodai, 1957), as a tyrannical military officer, and
Keisuke Kinoshita's Broken Drum [Tabure-daiko, 1949), as a par
venu father, he is already a shadow of his former self, a living
corpse. The typical father had already been established in Ozu's
realistic prewar films about average urban families. Robbed of
authority and deprived of firm trust and respect, his family still
prefers him to try to act like the model father.
Since reality differed so much from the model in the 1930s,
g one begins to wonder what happened to the strong patriarch and
^ even to doubt that he ever existed. Perhaps a brief examination
g of the sociohistorical origins of patriarchy will throw some light
^ on this problem.
§ Patriarchy is a product of a feudalistic society where an in-
^ dividual's status and occupation depend on the household he is
^ affiliated with. If the house fell, so did the individual. Conse-
§ quently, each household member had to maintain the honor of
W the family name, and the ultimate responsibility for this had to
S rest with the head. A patriarch was also necessary because the
w household was regarded as a single political unit. If an individual
> conspired against the government, it was deemed a conspiracy by
his or her entire household, and everyone was punished. Since
the head or patriarch assumes most responsibility, he is given the
authority to control this political unit.
In the above respects, the samurai households of feudal Japan
were surely patriarchal, as were those of large landowners, upper-
class merchants, and craftsmen with many apprentices. On the
other hand, tenant farmers, lower-class merchants, and ordinary
craftsmen did not guarantee their members any special social
status or occupation. Their children were sent out to work and the
best each individual could do was to make enough to live on.
These people had no strong sense of family honor to be defended,
and the idea that the father, as head, exhibit forceful leadership
was not particularly necessary. If the mother had more fight in
her, she could assume leadership, or if the father was ineffectual,
the eldest son had to be aggressive. In short, everyone was happy
if the whole family cooperated—an attitude similar in modern
postwar families. Among ordinary people during the feudal
period, it was not necessary to institutionalize a clear-cut chain of
command or to observe formalities that prevented disturbances
in the regulation of a household.
The new ruling class which came to power with the Meiji Res
toration in 1868 and began to modernize Japan was aware that
patriarchal households were securely institutionalized among
former samurai, large landowners, and upper-class merchants.
However, they had to admit that they had no idea what held or
dinary families' households together. Therefore, they legalized
the patriarchal family system [kazoku seido) and, through the new
universal education system, compelled each citizen to believe this ^
was a virtue characteristic of Japan.
Although the Meiji rulers came from lower-ranking samurai >
families, they still belonged to the old elite and they were psycho- «
logically motivated to impose their morals on all social classes.
They also had a political motive, since to organize all the people
into tight units it was necessary to institutionalize a chain of com
mand that extended all the way down to the ordinary household.
Just as the emperor, head of the nation, compelled obedience
from the citizens, so could the father as head of the household.
By legally guaranteeing the patriarch some legal prerogatives,
such as disowning a willful child, the Meiji leaders subjugated
them and their families, instituting a chain of command from the
emperor at the top to the father of common households as the
lowest-ranking group leader.
This paradigm was graphically illustrated in Stepbrothers, when
on New Year's Day the patriarch, an army officer, assembles the
whole family in the yard to pay homage to the distant Imperial
Palace.
Regardless of the patriarch's legal prerogatives, his authority
could only be assured if it could be passed on. If his wealth or
special status were not hereditary, his attendant authority lost
substance. In this respect, the Meiji leaders undermined patriar
chal authority, because, through their new education system, the
success of youths was determined by their school entrance exami
nations. While parental wealth may be important to academic
competition—as financial support during preparation periods, for
example—its role eventually diminished rapidly.
The new education system also undermined the father's pre
vious educational role. In the past, if the son was to inherit the
father's status and occupation, his father had to give him the same
training he had received. A leader, such as the boss of a group of
workers in some trade, had to instill in his son the necessary bear
ing and ability to be a man among men. If he was too soft on his
own son, he might send him to another such leader, perhaps a
fictive brother he had served his own apprenticeship with, for
under his friend's tutelage his son would undergo the necessary
harsh training.
In contemporary times, however, regardless of the social status
 g of the father, the son cannot become successful if he is not superior
^ academically. Conversely, the son of a poor man can reach the
§ top of the social ladder if he does well at school.
In this way, sons of ordinary families who went to school rarely
§ entered their fathers' occupations, and many made academic
progress precisely because they did not want to do so. It became
^ meaningless for youths to merely obey their parents for the pur-
§ pose of inheriting their status, and it became futile for fathers to
w raise their sons to follow in their footsteps.
2 The majority of modern Japanese fathers have realized this
w change and have begun to make friends with their children, rather
> than play the strict father role. Ozu's / IVas Born But, . . can be
considered the story of such a father, and Ozu was the first director
to succeed in creating an artistic vehicle for this idea.
When the father in I Was Born But, , , loses his temper at his
sons' criticism, he is already reduced to equal terms with the sons,
and the father, aware of this, engages in self-deprecatory re
marks. On the following morning the boys are still incensed at
being slapped and decide to go on a hunger strike. The father and
mother try to comfort them and get on their good side by offering
them nigiri, rice balls, which they consent to eat. Afterward the
father joins the boys as they walk to school. Soon the father's boss
passes by in his car and offers him a ride to work. Now the father
is placed on the horns of a dilemma, as his obsequiousness had led
to the confrontation the previous night. The eldest boy surmises
his difficulty and simply says, "Go ahead, father." Relieved, the
136 f^^her gets in the boss's car, and the boys, having learned a little
about the complexity of life, continue on their way to school.
It is indisputably clear in this scene that father and sons are
now equals. They are like friends who are careful not to hurt each
other's feelings, quite different from the one-sided subordination
found in the old patriarchal family system.
Ozu's brilliance lies in the portrayal of the gentle, mutual un
derstanding reached between father and sons, and he is equalled
only by Vittorio De Sica in Bicycle Thieves, However, Ozu's treat
ment differs from De Sica's in that his father is made to consider
himself a failed parent. After the children are sound asleep the
father, full of regrets over slapping them, says: "I don't want
those kids to become a useless, no-good clerk like me." Here the
alienation of office workers may be implied, but the level of self- ^
ridicule is too strong. Perhaps there is a psychological motivation, ^
too, since the father is supposed to be noble, and when Ozu pre- >
sumes to portray an ignoble one who has fallen to the level of his p
sons, he may have felt it necessary to insert the vindicating excuse ^
that such a father considers himself to be a failure as an adult.
The change in official morality after the war can be seen in
Good Morning {Ohayo^ 1959), which almost appears to be a remake
of I Was BornBut, . . .Two young boys, in a protest against their
father, resolve to keep silent both at home and school, instead of
undertaking a hunger strike. Although in the earlier film their
protest forced the adults to engage in serious self-reflection, the
reason in Good Morning is a trivial one. Their father had upbraided
them for watching too much television.
While there is a superficial resemblance to the confrontation in
I Was Born But. . . , in reality there is no confrontation at all
and peace reigns supreme. When the sons get the better of the fa
ther and he looks embarrassed, the audience feels he is secretly
enjoying it, and the unique humor of Good Morning lies in this
overlapping of the psychologies of adults and children. When the
idiXhoxinl Was Born But. . . realizes that he has lost his authority,
he becomes disconcerted and disgusted with himself, and later
tries hard to be at least friends with the children. In Good Morning
the father and sons are friends and equals from the very start.
The loss of paternal authority does not seem to bother this father
at all, as if Ozu concluded that a father's authority is no longer
necessary in a postwar home. 23y
Before Good Morning Ozu had made a series of films where he
depicts this breakdown of the home. In The Munekata Sisters [Mune-
kata Shimai, 1950) the husband loses his earning power after the
war but continues to put on arrogant airs. Jealous of his wife's
secret infatuation with the memory of another man, he suddenly
subjects her to a severe beating. He is no longer a figure of authority
but a mere bully. In Tokyo Story [Tokyo Monogatari, 1953) the fa
ther loses control over his sons and daughters who live in far-away
Tokyo, and although they bear him no malice, when he and his
wife come to visit them, they treat him coldly. In Early Spring
(Soshun, 1956) the husband loses the respect of his wife through
his infidelity and the subsequent crisis. Twilight in Tokyo [Tokyo
g Boshokuy 1957) is a gloomy portrayal of an aging father, whose
^ wife runs away, and his bitter daughters.
§ Since Ozu had already depicted paternal authority as an illu-
w sion in the prewar masterpiece I Was Born But. . . , it seems
§ strange that he should want to do so again in his postwar films.
Perhaps one reason is that Ozu gradually began to depict noble
^ fathers and confident males after the Sino-Japanese War erupted
§ in 1937. In making / Was Born But. . . , he might have thought
w that paternal authority, however illusory, was still necessary. He
2 resolves this contradiction during the war by siding with patriar-
w chal social order in making The Brothers and Sisters of the Toda
> Family and There Was a Father [Chichi Arikiy 1942).
A complete denial of paternal authority can be equated with a
negation of leadership or guidance. Although the fathers in /
Was Born But. . . and The Only Son were made powerless by the
bitter realities of society, they still functioned as heads of their
families, by clinging to the ideal. Their sense of responsibility
brings about pangs of conscience, and the young boys in / Was
Bom But. . . and the old mother in The Only Son are symbols of
their guilt. The men in The Brothers and Sisters of the Toda Family
and There Was a Father, however, are saved from this predicament
by their devotion to the morals demanded by the state during the
war, and after regaining their confidence, they lecture those in the
family who do not measure up.
This factor is well illustrated in Ozu's war-time script of The
Flavor of Green Tea over Ricey probably his most frivolous script,
jgg but instructive because it shows hownationalism can uphold some
concepts of masculinity. The wife in the script is a lady of leisure
with an absent-minded husband whom she considers dull and
worthless. However, when his military conscription order arrives,
the tables are turned. While she panics and is at a complete loss,
he remains cool, calmly eating his rice dish. She then realizes
how important her husband really is, and at dinner he proceeds
to give her a lecture on the virtues of manhood.
As indicated in Ozu's films before 1937, when the Sino-Japanese
War broke out, the fall of the Japanese patriarchal family system
was not brought about by the new postwar constitution. It was
rather the result of a new education system and Japan's rapid
industrialization, which drew youths away from farming villages.
which had been the core of the old feudal society. These young ^
men set up households in the cities and worked diligently to give ^
their sons a higher education than they had received. It was the >
best they could do for them because they had neither wealth nor p
social status to pass on. However, despite the better education of
the generation of the 1930s, during the depression years most people
were neither able to live affluently nor support their parents in
their old age. This induced strong guilt feelings, making them
antipathetic toward filial love. This situation Ozu superbly reveals
in The Only Son.
The militaristic leaders of the late 1930s unconsciously replaced
the loss of paternal authority with the slogan that Japan could
become affluent by winning the war. (Men who did their duty
in war were allowed to discard their families, since respect for
the emperor was equal to respect for the father.) Thereupon, the
previous acrimonious estrangement between father and son was
replaced by a feeling of optimism, as in The Brothers and Sisters oj
the Toda Family.
When this optimism disappeared with Japan's defeat, Ozu
plunged into a thorough investigation of the postwar family. The
members of his families seem to be asking themselves: ''As we are
so estranged from each other, why do we have to be together?"
The answer Ozu gives is both simple and profound: "It's just too
sad and lonely for human beings to be alone." The pretense of
paternal authority is still maintained, however, in those films
where Setsuko Hara plays the daughter and Chishu Ryu, the
father. Listening to his lectures as though they were hard luck 139
stories, the daughter becomes more like a mother, and by giving
her this role Ozu attempts to cover up the emptiness incurred by
the father's loss of authority.

3. THE "HOME DRAMA" GENRE

The Japanese directors who were most representative of the "home
drama" (a drama genre centering around a family) were all
originally from Shochiku's old Kamata studios, for example, Ozu,
Yasujiro Shimazu, Heinosuke Gosho, and Mikio Naruse. In their
bestprewar films they presentedthe familyin a tense confrontation
with society, and this tradition continued until 1939, in Naruse's
0 The Whole Family Works (Hataraku Ikka) and Shimazu's A Brother
^ and His Younger Sister,
§ The Whole Family Works concerns a poorfamily which can barely
w cope financially despite three sons who are all working to help
S the father, a printer. When the eldest son announces his desire
^ to quit the factory and attend a technical school, a crisis arises.
> The idea of the home as a fortress to be defended in hard times
§ eventually leads the eldest son to renounce his own wish for
w advancement and continue to work for the benefit of all.
2 In this film Naruse uses the family to comment on society, re-
w alistically depicting the tough confrontation between home and
> society. Although The Whole Family Works was based on a novel
written by the proletarian author, Sunao Tokunaga, in 1939,
two years after the Sino-Japanese War began, it was impossible to
take up social problems like job layoffs and low wages directly,
and these could only be hinted in the home drama genre, in which
Naruse excelled.
In Shimazu's A Brother and His Younger Sister, society is repre
sented by the rivalries in the brother's office, where a dog-eat-
dog atmosphere and survival of the fittest pervade the business
world. In contrast, the home is sanctified as a place of warmth
and generosity, feelings that were rapidly vanishing in society.
The support men receive at home is represented by the hero's
young sister, who turns down a marriage proposal for fear of
inciting jealousy at his office. In this dialogue between them
we can feel the tension between the home and society.
sister: I'm sorry if my fears are groundless. I wasjust afraid that
since he's the boss's nephew, they would think that the marriage
concerns more people than me alone.
brother: You mean your marriage would look like a ploy on
my part to maintain my position at the office.
sister: I don't want it to be considered a ploy. Then they would
look down on you at the office. That's what I was afraid of.
Just as in The Whole Family Works, the home is a fortress, and
defending it is the duty of father and brothers, and it is up to the
mothers, wives, and sisters to lend support to their sense of honor.
As Japan approached the Pacific War, however, the "sense of
honor" was demanded by the state, and mothers, wives, sisters.
and sweethearts smiled while they waved flags as their men went ^
ofTto war. Then in 1941, with Ozu's The Brothers and Sisters of the
Toda Family^ the home, a place that fosters generous, humane ^
sentiments, was turned into an arena for ugly, egoistic rivalry, p
After the death of the father, the mother and youngest daughter
are placed in the care of the older sons, who have set up their own
households, and the married daughters. However, as mother and
sister are both regarded as financial burdens, they eventually
have to seek a place of their own. At the climax of the film, the
youngest son, who returns from Manchuria to attend a memorial
service for his father, severely rebukes his older brothers and sisters
for their selfishness.
In I Was Born But. . . and The Only Son, dramatic tension was
combined with bitterness and pathos because of the men's help
lessness in society and the strong moral admonishment they receive
from their children or mother. Home to them was the source of
the traditional sense of justice, and the worse society became,
the sounder the family was. In The Brothers and Sisters of the Toda
Family, however, Ozu does a complete turnabout, for the youngest
son, who has breathed the air of the new, ''sound" social order,
comes home to attack the perverted, stagnant situation there.
This change in Ozu can also be seen in There Was a Father. The
only son, after a long separation from his father, finally tells him
that he wishes to live in the same area, only to be rebuked: "You
shouldn't even think of such a thing; one's job or occupation
should not be thought of in terms of individual feelings. Believe
that your occupation has been divinely appointed and apply 141
yourself diligently." Here it is plain that society is now above crit
icism. If one is dissatisfied, it should be attributed to one's own
avarice and should be corrected by oneself or within one's family.
On this Ozu was joined by Tomotaka Tasaka, who directed
Mother-and-Child Grass {Hahako-gusa) in the same year, 1942. The
story is of a mother who, with a smiling face, welcomes her blinded
son home from the war. At that time the home drama genre ad
vocated no confrontation between home and society, with the
family completely subordinate to the state, typified by the slogan:
"One Hundred Million People, One Heart" {ichioku isshin).
After the defeat, the idea of society's demands taking priority
over the home was suddenly discarded. Kinoshita, with A Morning
 § with the Osone Family, and Ozu, with A Hen in the Wind {Kaze no
^ Naka no Mendori, 1948), tried to revive social criticism from the
§ standpoint of the family, but their films did not become the main-
w stream of postwar home dramas. When the authority of the state
S crumbled, people saw its replica in the family system and so the
^ home, too, was rejected. Neither the nation nor the household
> could dictate morality any more.
w The next major development in the home drama genre occurred
w in 1949, when Ozu made Late Spring [Banshun),a sketch of the daily
2 life of a father and daughter who reside in a small house in quiet
^ North Kamakura. This initiated a series of Ozu films with the
> theme: there is no society, only the home. While family mem
bers had their own places of activity—office, school, family busi
ness—there was no tension between the outside world and the
home. As a consequence, the home itself lost its source of moral
strength. Ozu almost dispensed with problems at work entirely
and turned to the joys and sorrows of a father over his daughter's
marriage proposal, a wife's distress over her husband's infidelity,
and so forth.
Thus Ozu's postwar films about happy homes tend to lack social
relevance because his affluent households were isolated from the
disturbing currents occurring outside it. Yet Ozu's home dramas
came to occupy the mainstream of the genre and can be considered
perfect expressions of ''my home-ism," whereby one's family is
cherished to the exclusion of everything else.
With his death in 1963, my home-ism became more a part of
142 television home dramas than of films, and the principal audience
became the housewife. With few exceptions, the majority of these
dramas in the 1960s followed the same formula. The family is
quite large; the father (usually played by Hisaya Morishige or
So Yamamura) is understanding, while the mother is not too bright
but good-natured and usually in a dither worrying about the
family. The sons and daughters are slightly flippant, but as they
tell their parents everything, they are never the cause of any worry.
Arguments are always settled amicably, since the family has both
understanding and a sense of purpose.
This kind of home drama was quite illusory on several counts:
1. The size of a Japanese family dwindled rapidly in the post
war era. Whereas in 1950 a household averaged about five mem-
bers, in 1970 it had three. Therefore, the big television families ^
of nine or ten are almost entirely fictitious, as is the television w
housewife, full of vim and vigor and forever doing things for the >
appreciative members of her large household. In reality, the aver- p
age housewife of a nuclear family living in a small apartment ^
does not even have much housework to do. As her husband rarely
comes straight home from work—he may be playing mahjong or
drinking with colleagues—all she has to cling to is their child,
and by being overly solicitous about its education, she has drawn
the critical appellation of ''education mama" (kyoiku mama).
Perhaps these television home dramas were well received because
they so totally ignored the lonely, dreary lives of modern house
wives and allowed them to live momentarily in an imaginary
home.
2. The number of inadequate housing areas has increased due
to urban sprawl and a government housing policy that lacks
overall planning and objectives. In 1970 most Japanese families
lived in one ^-tatami-mdiX. room (8ft. by 12 ft.) in a wooden building.
In contrast, most television families live in spacious residences
conducive to an aetive, free and easy life-style, with plenty of
guests visiting them. These families also never quarrel—for ex
ample, over which television program to watch—and if something
unpleasant occurs outside the home, the afflicted family member
can beat a fast retreat to his room and sulk. Meanwhile, the rest
of the family can hold a meeting in another room to determine
how to console their unfortunate member. Such spacious accommo
dation did not exist, of course, in the one-room flats of most urban
families in 1970.
3. Poor housing conditions and further urbanization has led
to greater mobility. Students in universities in large cities often
do not return to their home towns after graduation and tend to
move frequently from one tenement flat to another. In 1970 most
Japanese were not settling down and building a home, and close
neighborly relations were declining fast. The majority of television
families, however, almost always have close relations with a family
nearby, and, since both of them own their homes, they can visit
each other and chat for hours. When a family squabble occurs,
the other home becomes a "demilitarized zone," and children
do not have to run away too far.
g 4. Since 1968, partly due to the influence of the one-hundredth
^ anniversary of the Meiji Restoration, many television home dra-
^ mas have become retrospectives of past generations in one family,
Sa and the genre began to glorify the past in addition to misrepre-
5 senting the present. In these ''historical" home dramas all the
bitter struggles between the young wife and the mother-in-law
^ are forgotten. The young wife usually loses because, according to
§ the old custom of marrying into her husband's household as a
w newcomer and stranger, she has to bear the brunt of the old pa-
2 triarchal family system. Regardless of her predicament, however,
w television invariably transforms her into a cheerful, magnanimous
> person.
Despite the gloomy aspects of the old Japanese home, the wife
then did have many functions to perform since, in general, there
was a much closer relation between her husband's occupation
and home life than there is nowadays. A wife's counsel was in
fluential in her husband's social intercourse and general communi
ty affairs, and there were many more opportunities to invite
guests to the house. It was also important for her to look after his
subordinates and younger colleagues. Such a housewife, leading
an active life, rich in diverse human relations, would probably
have a cheerful, magnanimous personality, for her social world
was much larger than the relatively small circle of relations the
wife in contemporary home dramas has. Unfortunately, this pos
itive side of the past is seldom portrayed well, and historical
home dramas usually degenerate into escapism.
144
30. Twenty-Jour Eyes {Nijushi no
Hitomi, 1954), directed by Kei-
suke Kinoshita. A youth (Taka-
hiro Tamura), blinded in the war,
meets his former grade school
teacher (Hideko Takamine) in the
most successful sentimental anti
war film; it surveys the life of the
common people from the rise of
militarism to the immediate post
war years (see Chapter 5).

31. Mght Drum {Torn no Tsuzumi,

1958), directed by Tadashi Imai.
The adultery of this samurai wife
(Ineko Arima) and its tragic con
sequences question the solidarity
of society (see Chapter 5).
32. Ikiru {Ikiru, 1952), directed by Akira Kurosawa. A bureaucrat (Takashi
Shimura) in a municipal office is dying of cancer, which leads him to search for
and discover the meaning of life (see Chapter 6).
33. No Regretsfor Our Touth {Waga
Seishun ni Kui Nashi, 1946), di
rected by Akira Kurosawa. The
wife (Setsuko Hara) of a prewar
antimilitarist leader (Susumu
Fujita) perseveres with a life of
hardship after his death despite
being ostracized by the villagers
(see Chapter 6).

34. Drunken Angel {Yoidore Tenshi,

1948), directed by Akira Kurosa
wa. Freed from war-time restric
tions, people live life to the fullest
despite the poverty and turmoil in
postwar Tokyo (see Chapter 6).
35. Rashomon {Rashomon, 1950),
directed by Akira Kurosawa. This
film, the first to accord sex serious
treatment, presents the ambiguity
of life through the subjective views
of its characters (Toshiro Mifune,
left; Machiko Kyo, right) (see
Chapter 6).

36. Seven Samurai {Shichinin no Sa

murai, 1954), directed by Akira
Kurosawa. In this brilliant por
trayal of life in feudal Japan, sa
murai (Toshiro Mifune, left; Seiji
Miyaguchi, right) help farmers
drive away bandits; the surviving
samurai are left wondering about
their purpose in life (see Chapter 6).

.A t
37. Stepbrothers {Ibo Kyodai,
1957), directed by Miyoji
leki. This officer father (Ren-
taro Mikuni) takes advantage
of the prewar patriarchal
family system to act the tyrant
at home (see Chapter 7).

38. I Was Born But. . .

{Umarete wa Mita Keredo,
1932), directed by Yasujiro
Ozu. When two boys inadver
tently witness their father's ;
(Tatsuo Saito) obsequious
ness toward his boss, the noble
father image is shattered, but
the father is able to make
friends with them (see Chapter
7).

39. The Only Son {Hitori Mu-

suko, 1936), directed by Ya-
sujiro Ozu. The young father
(Shin'ichi Himori), realizing
his own weakness of character
after a visit from his mother,
talks to his wife (Yoshiko Tsu-
bouchi) about his failure (see
Chapter 7).
 19

JS-V A
40. The Proud Challenge [Hokori Takaki Chosen, 1962), directed by Kinji Fuka-
saku. U.S. Army Intelligence officers assume the role of the villain in this
foreign policy intrigue (see Chapter 8).

41. Death by Hanging {Koshikei, 1968), directed by Nagisa Oshima. The sister
(Akiko Koyama) of the Korean prisoner facing execution and a police officer
(Fumio Watanabe) reenact the crime in this film, where the villain is portrayed
as society itself (see Chapter 8).

N,

in:'
 42. TAe Eternal Rainbow {Kono Ten no
Niji, 1958), directed by Keisuke Kino-
shita. The daily life of factory workers
(Teiji Takahashi, left-, Yusuke Kawazu,
right) at a giant enterprise reveals the
political apathy of Japanese workers
during the postwar recovery period (see
Chapter 8).

. -

43. The Song of the Cart [Niguruma no

Uta, 1959), directed by Satsuo Yama-
moto. The funeral procession for the
wife of the country drayman (Rentaro
Mikuni, with Sachiko Hidari as the
daughter) who in this film symbolizes
the evil in us all (see Chapter 8).

44. The Life of Okaru {Saikaku Ichidai

Onna, 1952), directed by Kenji Mizo-
guchi. In his use of original cinematic
techniques to depict the vicissitudes in
a court lady's (Kinuyo Tanaka) life,
Mizoguchi achieved international re
nown (see Chapter 9).
 45. Tokyo Story {Tokyo Mono-
gatari, 1953), directed by Ya-
sujiro Ozu. This scene of the
elderly parents (Chishu Ryu,
left; Chieko Higashiyama,
right) at a hot spring resort
reveals Ozu's preference for
having characters in the same
pose and facing the same di

t'lirfl
iiiil ^
m rection (see Chapter 9).

Hill'
 48. Children of the Atom Bomb {Genbaku no Ko,
1952), directed by Kaneto Shindo. This story
of a schoolteacher (Nobuko Otowa) returning
to Hiroshima focuses on the endurance of the
survivors of the A-bomb attack (see Chapter 10).

49. Children of the Atom Bomb. The suffering of

the victims (Osamu Takizawa) of the A-bomb
attack is further augmented by the prejudice
they face in society (see Chapter 10).

1^1

50. Record of a Living Being {Ikimono no Kiroku, 1955), directed by Akira Kuro
sawa. Terrified by the news of a hydrogen bomb test, an old man (Toshiro
Mifune) goes insane in this film depicting the bomb as a destructive psycho
logical force (see Chapter 10).

9>
51. Bad Boys (FuryoSlionen, 1961), directed by Susumu Hani. This portrayal of
juvenile delinquents, filmed entirely on location with an all-amateur cast,
exemplified the new dociunentary approach to film-making (see Chapter 11).

52. A Town of Love and Hope (Ai to Kibo no Machi. 1959), directed by Nagisa
Oshima. The bourgeois brother (Fumio Watanabe) shoots down the dove, sym
bol of sentimental humanism of films of the past, while his sister (Yuki Tomi-
naga) looks on—heralding the new wave in Japanese film (see Chapter 11).
 '3 »

1' ^

53. Violence at Npon {Hakuchu no

Torima, 1966), directed by Nagisa
Oshima. A rape victim (Sae Kawa-
guchi) and a police officer (Fu-
mio Watanabe) pursue a rapist-
murderer, who represents the sick
ness in society (see Chapter 11).

54. The Insect Woman {Nippon

Konchuki, 1963), directed by Sho-
hei Imamura. Out oflove a daugh
ter (Sachiko Hidari) suckles her
mentally retarded father in this /
film where sex is associated with
a childlike desire to return to the
womb (see Chapter 11).
55. Violence Elegy [Kenka Ereji,
1966), directed by Seijun Suzuki.
The sexually repressive 1930s pro
pelled some youths (Yusuke Ka-
wazu, left\ Hideki Takahashi,
right) to rush headlong into war
and to a pathetic end (see Chap
ter 11).

56. The Red Angel {Akai Tenshi,

1966), directed by Yasuzo Masu-
mura. The expression of sex as a
lust for life is shown through the
nurse (Ayako Wakao), who gives
herself to soldiers on the battlefield
(see Chapter 11).
57. It's Tough To Be a Man (Otoko
wa Tsurai yo, 1969), directed by
Yoji Yamada.This comedy, depict
ing the warmth of the common
people (Kiyoshi Atsumi, Sachi
ko Mitsumoto, right) living in the
idealized "old" neighborhood, is
the only series to remain successful
in the 1970s (see Chapter 12).

58. The hero (Kiyoshi Atsumi)

of this comedy series is a tekiya,
or itinerant vendor, who sells his
wares outside temples and shrines
at festivals.
 59. The Call of Distant Mountains
{Harukanaru Tama no Tobigoe,
1980), directed by Yoji Yamada.
Even in 1980 a tateyaku-type. hero
(Ken Takakura) can only confess
his love for a woman indirectly,
by showing affection for her son.
1I .. V
*
fiv /.
iv

60. The Four-and-a-Half-Mat Room

in Back—Soft, Secret Skin (Tojohan
Fusuma no Urabari—Shinobi Hada,
1974), directed by Tatsumi Kuma-
shiro. In this excellent soft-core
porno, the tradition of the nimaime,
who believe that love is the greatest
joy in life, is affirmed (see Chapter
12).

/
 •>W

61. The Realm of the Senses {Ai no Korida, 1976), directed by Nagisa Oshima.
In this hard-core porno masterpiece, the tradition of the nimaime is maintained
by presenting the hero's (Tatsuya Fuji) willingness to be killed in order to
gratify the woman he loves (Eiko Matsuda) (see Chapter 12).

62. Z^geunerweisen {Tsuigoineruwaizen, 1980), directed by Seijun Suzuki. The

world of the dead and the world of the living intermingle (Michiyo Okusu,
left\ Yoshio Harada, n^g/it), revealing the identity problems of the present gen
eration (see Chapter 12).

* #

\
r/ e

<• „t

63. Kagemusha {Kagemusha, 1980), directed by Akira Kurosawa. This film, in

which a common man impersonates a great hero, reflects the current identity
crisis of the Japanese people, which might lead eventually to positive develop
ments (see Chapter 12).
 y/'

Kf 'v •

1. THE CHANGE IN HIS IMAGE

In Japanese film history there is a long tradition offilms ofsocial jgj
protest based on the vital premise that the villains are self-evident.
In leftist tendency films of the late 1920s and early 1930s, evil
capitalists fitted the bill, as in Yasujiro Shimazu's The Belle {Reijin,
1930). The heroine, a high sehool girl, is seduced by her bourgeois
classmate's fiancd, who later abandons her because his fiancee's
father is paying for his tuition. Pregnant, the heroine leaves school
and home, and places her child in the care of her brother who
lives in the country. To support herself she works in a bourgeois
nightclub, where she meets her former seducer and becomes his
mistress. He is now president of a company that is building golf
courses, and one of his projects is to buy up land in her brother's
village cheaply. The angry farmers protest, and after a riot ensues.
g it is disclosed that the man had paid bribe money to his father-
^ in-law's political party. Thetwo men are then arrested; thefarm-
^ ers get their land back; the heroine gives up the cabaret world
of the city to raise her child in the country; and everyone lives
g happily ever after.
^ In this film the capitalists, the root of all evil, are portrayed as
^despicable, mean people, juxtaposedagainstgood, honest common
§ folk, whose anger isjustified. This was a common pattern in urban
w melodrama then, whereas in period drama the capitalist was
G replaced by an evil magistrate or retainer.
w When leftist films were suppressed in the 1930s, social protest
> films continued to be made, merely focusing on the misery of pa
thetic folk. Classic examples are Mizoguchi's Osaka Elegy, Hisa-
tora Kumagai's Many People {Sobo, 1937), and Tomu Uchida's
Earth. All of them are marked by the absence of a single, powerful
villain. In Osaka Elegy, for example, several factors lead to the
downfall and corruption of the heroine—her good-for-nothing
father who embezzles company funds, her boss who makes her
his mistress in exchange for covering up the embezzlement, the
hysterical wife of the boss, her timid, irresolute boyfriend who
always lets her down at the crucial moment, and her unfeeling
brother whom she sees through college but who abuses her for dis
gracing the family. In the final analysis, there is no one who is
upright and dependable in her immediate environment, and from
this we infer that evil is inherent in society itself. Although this
film appeared at the height of critical realism in the 1930s, it, like
jg2 others of its kind, was somewhat disappointing simply because
everyone was so bad that there was no point in hating anyone
in particular.
After 1945, the villain began to make a comeback in the fol
lowing films of social protest: Satsuo Yamamoto's Streetof Violence
{Boryoku no Machi, 1950), about mobsters who interfere in a local
election and obstruct newspaper reportage; Imai's Darkness at
Noon, concerning police officers who give suspects third-degrees
in order to force confessions; and Kinoshita's The Garden of Women,
about a women's college where the principal and dormitory head
tyrannize the students. These villains are infinitely memorable
because they exist in everyday life, as do their victims, and here
cinema comes to the support of those who stand up against evil
single-handedly. In the above films the identity ofthe villain is ^
obvious, and the standard by which he is judged is more or less ^
agreed upon. The mobsters, police officers, and school heads are p
all evil because they are enemies ofdemocracy, and only by over- ^
throwing them can democracy be saved. g
This theme is echoed in films of the late 1950s and the 1960s.
In Satsuo Yamamoto's The Matsukawa Derailment Incident {Matsu-
kawa Jiken^ 1961) and The Witness Seat {Shonin no IsUy 1965),
and Shiro Moritani's Head {Kubi, 1968), police officers and pros
ecuting attorneys once again obtain false confessions through
mental and physical torture. In Yamamoto's The Human Wall
[Ningen no Kabe, 1959), a conscientious teacher is harassed by
superiors and parents, and in his The Great White Tower {Shiroi
Kyoto^ 1966), the antidemocratic, feudalistic nature of a university
medical department is graphically illustrated through the bribery
of its doctors.
In these films the enemies of democracy are mainly within
power structures like the police department, the prosecuting at
torney's office, and the academic world. This attack on power
structures marks an advance over prewar films, which only per
mitted attacks on individual capitalists. One reason why postwar
directors of films of social protest did not attack individual capital
ists was probably because the postwar dissolution of large cartels
{zaibatsu) had eliminated most of them. When Third-ClassExecutive
[Santo Juyaku) appeared in 1952, the film image of the Japanese
capitalist had already changed. The term "third-class executives"
is a reference to employees of large companies who took over the jg3
forcibly vacated posts of their presidents and top executives on
orders from the Occupation forces. They were thus managers in
name only, without any stock in the company. Third-Class Executive
took the form of a comedy about the hardships of such a puppet
company president who gets into trouble not only at his office but
also in private life. So successful was it that it resulted in the
famous Company President series [Shacho shirizu), some thirty films
made from 1956, which were at the height of their popularity
during Japan's period of rapid economic growth.
In contrast to tyrannical company presidents of pre-1945
movies, the Company President series' boss was a funny, likable fel
low, "the old man" loved by all his employees. This trait is a
g reflection of actual postwar working conditions, where familial
^ solidarity and cooperation between management and staff char-
^ acterize Japanese enterprises, and are even cited as reasons for
^ Japanese economic success. These characteristics are often ex-
g plained as a tradition carried over from the past. However, from
^ the depiction of company presidents in Japanese film, friendly
^ management and staff relations developed through the Occupa-
§ tion forces, which swept away tyrannical executives of old in its
w effort toward democratization. The unique Japanese custom of
G the company president eating in the same cafeteria as the workers
w is, in fact, a postwar phenomenon.
> Without any capitalists left to attack, film-makers turned to
power structures as the enemies of democracy. In the 1960s,
however, America joined the rank of villain as evidenced by an
intense anti-American stance in a few films that purportedly ex
posed plots by the U.S. government. Kinji Fukasaku's The Proud
Challenge [Hokori Takaki Chosen^ 1962) dealt with CIA-type machi
nations, which included a deal with aJapanese enterprise to supply
weapons to antirevolutionary forces in Southeast Asia. The hero,
a reporter (Koji Tsuruta), is dismissed by a large newspaper
during the red purge in 1950 and now leads a bohemian existence.
When he gets wind of this sinister deal, however, his accumulated
resentment of the establishment and of America suddenly erupts
and he plunges into the investigation. However, all his witnesses
are killed in front of his very eyes. In the final scene he stands alone
in front of the National Diet Building, which has the sun
shining in back of it. All of a sudden he takes off the sunglasses
he has worn throughout and glares angrily at this symbol of the
establishment. His protest is no longer that of a drop-out, it has
evolved into that of a man who faces his nemesis head on.
Although the distinction between the good guys and the bad
guys is too clear-cut, this becomes a merit rather than a short
coming of the film. The root of all evil is American foreign policy
in Asia, and the too-cooperative Japanese government. The hero
is disappointed at the Japanese mass media for not taking up
the struggle and, by going against this evil alone and by being
ultimately defeated, he captures the audience's sympathy. Although
the plot smacks of a cheap detective novel, this is not considered
a flaw because of the mystery surrounding American foreign
policy. Since we are all victims of the fear that our fate is being ^
manipulated by a dark, sinister power, we can vent all our hatred ^
on it. a
Fukasaku later developed variations on this theme in League of ^
Gangsters [Gyangu Domei, 1963) and Wolves, PigsandPeople {Okami to 5
Buta to Ningen, 1964). Here American spies are replaced by a
modern gang, and a former gangster defies it either alone or with a
teenage gang. However, compared with America, a modern gang as
a sinister power symbol is absurdly unsuited as an object of hatred.
In Fukasaku'sjva^w^^ movies, the traditional gangs are just as
ridiculous as the modern ones. An organized gang is usually op
pressing the common people and a loner pits himself against it.
The only saving grace of these films is the lone hero, who still abides
by the lost virtues of chivalry and loyalty. When the hero (Koji
Tsuruta) strikes a defiant pose and glares at his foe, audiences
are more moved through sympathy with him than hatred for the
villains.
Kei Kumai's expose of America in The Japanese Archipelago
{Nihon Retto, 1965), based on the director's own investigation of
the subject, has more truth in it than The Proud Challenge, Kumai
suggests that some murder cases during the Occupation remain
unsolved because they were connected with U.S. Army Intelligence.
The latter may resemble the evil capitalist of prewar leftist films
but had little postwar appeal because of the friendly feelings the
Japanese had for Americans after the Occupation. It is only when
America shows signs of increasing military tension that the
Japanese are put on their guard. j05

2. TRANSFIGURATIONS OF EVIL
Keisuke Kinoshita's The Eternal Rainbow reveals the everyday
problems of the Japanese working people and their social conscious
ness, or lack of it. It is a thought-provoking movie about the life
of the employees at Yahata Iron Works, one of the largest enter
prises in Japan. Unlike war-time movies such as Hot Wind {Meppu,
1943, also filmed at Yahata), where increased production was
urged, here the relative contentment of the employees is stressed.
It does not focus on the solidarity among workers, as in postwar
leftist productions, because the workers here are more conscious
 § of the size oftheir company and the hierarchy of large enterprises
^ and exploited small and medium-sized ones. In other words The
§ Eternal Rainbow is a paean to big business and indirectly exposes
w the "double structure" of the Japanese economy—a postwar trans-
§ figuration of villainy—and also explains the political apathy and
conservatism of the Japanese worker in 1958.
^ Like an advertisement, The Eternal Rainbow begins with a brief
B montage introducing the entire operation of the factory. The main
w characters then appear, in their respective places of work, and
G more than documenting the nature and function of their jobs,
w the scale of the enterprise is revealed, creating the impression that
> it is just like one big, happy family, or an autonomous fief.
This impression deepens when everyone returns after work to
their well-furnished company housing units. Although young
romance spices the plot, the majority of the characters lead un
eventful lives. Everyone buys things at the company shop, eats in
the company cafeteria, and listens to the company orchestra in a
meeting hall. If workers get injured, they go for treatment at the
company hospital. On some nights the company provides special
entertainment, such as the water ballet performed by artists in
vited from Tokyo. Boys and girls date on such occasions and can
even rendezvous at the company's House on the Hill, which re
sembles an artificial park. In short, all the necessities of life, and
some luxuries, are provided in this little kingdom, and there is
practically no reason for workers to be concerned about anything
outside the company.
155 The most fortunate, apparently happy, couple to appear in this
movie are an engineer and his girlfriend, a clerk in the adminis
tration building. Although they cannot complain about their jobs,
they are not particularly absorbed in them either. Still, they make
full use of the company's amenities and enjoy a relatively un
troubled youth. Now they are talking about his future, since the
companyis sending him overseas. He seems to bethinking: "I could
probably marry a better girl than the one I'm dating now, but
then, when all is said and done, someone whose disposition you
know is probably best."
All the older workers have docile expressions that seem to say:
We're not really happy, but then, if you complain all the time,
you'll be punished. They are not aware of any world outside
Yahata Iron Works, and they'll all work here until they retire, H
continuing to live in their company housing units. Things may w
not be perfect, but they are satisfied. p
All is not bliss, ofcourse. A new factory worker, a country boy ^
fresh out of high school, senses that there is a barrier between the §
likes of him and the technicians and office personnel. His friend
and mentor once proposed to, and was rejected by, an office girl.
While there was not the slightest trace of ill-will or scorn, he feels
that his friend's rejection was a question of social class. Although
his friend was furious over the event, the boy feels that in the end
he will swallow it and adapt.
There are those more discontented than the country boy and
his friend, though, like the son of the foreman he is boarding with,
who, as a result of illness, fails the job entrance examination to
Yahata Iron Works. He wanders from job to job in small or me
dium-sized enterprises, but despairs when he realizes he is not
getting on. Thereafter, he loafs on the job, sponges on his friends,
and worries his parents. He picks a quarrel every chance he gets,
not only with his parents but with the country boy. He actually
envies the country boy, just because he has a job at Yahata Iron
Works, and measures his own misfortune by not being able to
enter its gates.
Eventually, the foreman's son goes to Tokyo and gets a job as
an unskilled worker in a subcontracting company for Yahata Iron
Works. While it is still a small enterprise, both he and his parents
are happy because it is connected with Yahata.
It is unfortunate that The Eternal Rainbow makes no attempt to j0y
present an accurate picture of a large company such as Yahata
Iron Works. The labor union, for instance, does not make an ap
pearance, and the issue of the large number of temporary workers,
who are paid much less, and their relationship with the union
is largely ignored. In addition, the considerable increase in ac
cidents and deaths due to poor working conditions is only dealt
with superficially. However, the film should not be overlooked
because it does provide us with an idea of the everyday problems
of the Japanese worker of 1958 and his social consciousness.
First, it shows the tremendous gap between large enterprises,
government offices, and public corporations on the one hand,
and the small and medium-sized enterprises on the other. Al-
 § though wages in the former are not especially high, unlike the
^ latter there is a social security system thatincludes retirement pen-
§ sions, housing, health care, and recreation facilities,
w Second, it shows how difficult it is to move from one big en-
§ terpriseto another, even if one has the necessary job qualifications.
^ Large enterprises usually givejob entrance examinations to young
> people, who work there until their retirement, and lifetime em-
§ ployment is provided for a fixed number ofnecessary employees,
w Economic fluctuations are regulated by the large number of tem-
2 porary workers who can be laid off easily. Their status is actually
w similar to that of an employee of a small or medium-sized company
> since they have no company benefits.
Given the above factors, if an employee at a large enterprise,
a government office, or a public corporation loses his job, he also
forfeits his lifelong security; and if a young person is unable to
land a job with a good company, he is more or less placed in the
status of a small or medium-sized company employee, like the
foreman's unfortunate son.
The above is largely a generalization and does not take into
account various more complex factors, but it is sufficient to reveal
an important psychological factor in the contemporary Japanese,
one brought about by the large versus small enterprise, what is
called the double structure of the Japanese economy.
This double structure originated with the collapse of the old
bourgeoisie after the war, when bureaucratic and management
posts were open to the masses. At the same time, the status of the
168 worker and farmer was elevated, and former differences in income
and education all but disappeared. This, in effect, meant that
there was no longer a social class that compared with the old
bourgeoisie, nor was there a class as low as the old proletariat,
making the so-called middle class swell greatly.
At first glance this bears some resemblance to American society,
where class consciousness and the inherent revolutionary spirit
both waned. The Marxist vision of the working class becoming
poorer and the bourgeoisie becoming more proletarian failed to
materialize, and the white-collar class,poised between the old bour
geoisie and the proletariat, became the main social class. Advocates
of a populist society correctly described this phenomenon as
"mass society," or "the age of middle-class culture."
 As in America, Japan, too, turned more conservative and lost ^
the will to reform society through the rise in living standards, and ^
more Japanese joined the ranks ofthe middle class. However, the p
chief reason for the waning ofthe revolutionary spirit among Jap- ^
anese workers lies in the unique structural dichotomy of large §
versus small enterprises.
Immediately after the war Japanese workers, including those
in large enterprises, made revolutionary demands that were re
spected politically. However, during the period of relative stability
after the Korean War of 1950-53, it became difficult to organize
workers for any reforms other than the antidismissal one. There
were demonstrations against military bases and against a new
act giving more power to the police force, but these represented
a struggle to maintain the status quo, not to reform society. As
inferred from the antidismissal fight, workers were loyal to an
organized labor union that protected their jobs, not one with social
reform in mind.
Eventually, Japanese workers also became loyal to the company
which guaranteed their jobs. Just as job mobility between large
enterprises without a salary loss was rare, conversely, these large
enterprises and government offices, as a matter of policy, assured
even incompetent employees a livelihood. In these circumstances
it was difficult to nurture in such employees a sense of solidarity
transcending the boundaries of their company, and thus the
company became more important to them than their social class.
Even if workers in large enterprises get low wages, they still
believe they are better off than people who work for smaller en- 259
terprises, and therefore have no wish to unite with them on com
mon issues. This is the basis of their conservative attitude. On the
other hand, it is difficult to organize workers of smaller enterprises
into a powerful body because they are so scattered. They tend to
be politically apathetic, too, since they are aware of the weak finan
cial structure of their company and often will not strike for
fear of bankrupting it.
As Japanese workers are so fragmented within their respective
companies, they lack a unified social consciousness, with the result
that there is not much of a labor movement on a national scale.
This lamentable condition of the Japanese worker in 1958 was well
presented in The Eternal Rainbow. Although some of the characters
 § were dissatisfied, they could do nothing about it. Moreover, the
^ basis of their dissatisfaction was more the result of occupational
^ discrimination, that is, the prejudice against factory workers, than
w low wages.
§ The problem of occupational discrimination also appears in
Kei Kumai's Sun over the Kurobe Gorge [Kurobe no Taiyo^ 1968),
> although the strength of this film lies in its presentation of the ex-
§ ploitation of workers of smaller enterprises, thus revealing the
w villainy inherent in the ''double structure" of the postwar Japanese
2 economy.
g The subject ofthe movie, the fourth Kurobe dam, was one ofthe
> cornerstones of Japan's rapid economic growth in the 1960s and
major construction companies joined forces to build it. Through
vivid flashbacks we are also shown the construction of the nearby
third Kurobe dam. This was undertaken during the war, when
Koreans were forced to work on the project like slaves. Now the
responsibility for the most difficult task, the digging of the front
line, is borne by the workers from a small subcontracting com
pany. Even with the democratic, postwar reforms in labor condi
tions, their job is little different from what the Koreans had been
forced to do, and even resembles the suicidal missions given to
kamikaze pilots. At the end of the movie the names of the large
number of workers who perished on the project are shown in
scribed on a monument in front of the completed dam.
Kumai depicts this incident in such a way as to expose both the
exploitation of smaller enterprises by large ones and the spirit of
170 the economic animal, consistent with the double structure that
results in a number of sacrifices from the ranks of small sub
contractors. However, as the producer, and one of the stars, was
Yujiro Ishihara, the younger brother of the novelist Shintaro Ishi-
hara—now a politician in the ruling Liberal Democratic Party,
which was committed to large-scale economic development—the
project leaders, managers, and technicians are presented as heroes.
There is one scene showing the manager and the head techni
cian deciding upon the undertaking while taking a bath together,
which is not unusual in Japan. Here Kumai may have been sati
rizing the private way of decision-making by members of the
elite. However, throughout the rest of the film he makes these
two men appear as noble human beings.
 Since the boldness ofthe project leaders is praised and they are ^
not held accountable for the men who died, the sacrifices them- w
selves inevitably become the result of a fanatical desire for eco- ^
nomic development pursued "militaristically," and the upholding ^
of the double structure of the Japanese economy. While it would §
be naive to present individual managers and technicians as amoral
villains, their portrayals as sincere, upright men of principle also
leaves something to be desired.
Yet, when director Kumai puts the finger of blame on the dou
ble structure of the economy rather than on the managers and
technicians, he was merely pursuing the widespread belief that evil
is inherent in the system. Even when those who live according to
the system realize the intrusion of evil in their work and in their
private lives, they defend themselves by claiming that this evil exists
in their position vis-a-vis the system, e.g., as a manager in a large
enterprise. Thus it became increasingly more difficult to portray
evil in individuals, and this is probably why film-makers turned to
those parts of the system where villainy was exposed, such as CIA-
type conspiracies and police brutality, or elsecontented themselves
with the \ma.gmz.vyyakuza world. There were even directors who
stopped portraying villains altogether; one example is Tadashi
Imai.
After Imai's success at depicting classical villains—brutal police
officers in Darkness at Noon—he turned to movies with the under
lying philosophy that it is not the individual who is evil but the
social system, as in the following: Rice, about the hardships of
poor farmers; A Story of Pure Love, concerning a victim of atomic jyj
radiation disease; Pan Chopali {Are ga Minato no Hi Da, 1961),
dealing with the problems of Korean residents in Japan; and The
Old Women of Japan {Nippon no Obachan, 1962), about the hard
ships of the elderly. Evil is discovered in the inadequacy of
Japan's agricultural policy, the governments of America, South
Korea, and Japan, and the social welfare system.
Imai did not attack such evils head on—perhaps to avoid being
too ideological—but simply sympathized with the people who suf
fered from an evil beyond their control. These films may be sin
cere statements, but they sometimes border on masochism because
Imai only magnifies suffering without showing how people can
strike back. Even under the oppressive, anti-intellectual atmosphere
 § of prewar Japan, Mizoguchi's heroine in Osaka Elegy rebels
^ against her suffering by her criminal behavior.
§ Not all of Imai's films show the common people to be such
helpless, self-effacing beings. In Bushido—Samurai Saga {Bushido
5 Z'^nkoku Monogatari^ 1963), A Story from Echigo {Echigo Tsutsuishi
^ Oya Shirazu, 1964), and River without a Bridge {Hashi no Nai Kawa^
^ 1969), Imai shows people who are the very incarnation of evil
§ and how the good people rebel against them. Since these films
w are set in the feudal and prewar periods, however, they lack
2 contemporary relevance. Imai's masochistic images of the sad
g unfortunate are usually stronger than his depictions of evil in-
> carnate or righteous rebellion, and even when his characters
fight back, one is still left with the touching impression that they
are frail, helpless beings, or pathetic victims.
This view of evil inherent in the system led to a form of resigna
tion because the people who administered the system were shown
as sincere, upright individuals (e.g., Kumai's managers and tech
nicians in Sun over the Kurobe Gorge) or as pathetic victims them
selves (e.g., Imai's characters). Since no one is to blame, one can
only heave a sad sigh. Then, in the late 1960s, radical Japanese
students abandoned this indeterminate attitude toward evil,
charging that if the system was evil, so were its administrators.
They refused to overlook injustices in the system called the "uni
versity," despite the administrators' claim that these injustices
had existed with the founding of the universities and could not
be reformed overnight. The students stuck to their logic that if
^72 the system was evil, the persons in that system should take
responsibility and reform it.
Once these students took their stand, they were intractable.
Consequently, law-abiding college professors began to look like
villains, as if they themselves had evolved the evils in the univer
sities. The tolerant, humanistic attitude of "They are not to blame
because they are victims of the system themselves," was replaced
by one which said, "Those who have lived comfortably in the shade
of the system have to take responsibility for the evil in it."
A good cinematic expression of this attitude is Nagisa Oshima's
Death by Hanging [Koshikei^ 1968), a surrealistic drama about a
prison execution. At first none of the people connected with the
execution—the prosecutor, security officer, doctor, chaplain—ap-
pear to be villains. On the contrary, with the exception of a few ^
undisguised authoritarian figures, their sympathies lie with the ^
prisoner. Later, however, the prisoner does not die, even though p
all the steps of the execution are carried out, and the situation ^
calls for him to be killed, although it is now evident that the real g
murderer is the state itself. All of a sudden, good people like the
doctor and chaplain—people who have judged themselves and
others solely on the basis of loyalty to the system—are put to the
test concerning their responsibility for the evil therein. As a result,
they disgrace themselves by panicking and becoming incoherent
or by identifying with the system completely.
Death by Hanging was a new kind of social protest film that re
sembled the dialectical cross-examination by students of their
professors on responsibility. Oshima had already touched on this
in his very first film, A Town of Love and Hope {Ai to Kibo no Machi,
1959), in which a woman schoolteacher tries to help one of her
less fortunate students to find a job in a large factory. She has
made the acquaintance of the son of the entrepreneur and arranges
for her student to take the entrance examination. The boy does
not get the job, however, when his juvenile delinquent past is
revealed. The teacher tries to explain to the entrepreneur's son,
with whom she is in love, that the boy's past behavior was inevi
table because of his family's poverty. He agrees but says that
company rules, in other words, the system, will not permit such an
excuse. At this point the teacher concludes that it is the system
that has alienated her student, and those inside such a system must
also beconsidered her enemies. She then leaves her lover for good, jyg
Oshima, from the very start, did not view the system and people
as two separate entities. He was not the first Japanese director to
present this, however. As far back as 1952, in Ikiru and TheModerns
(Gendaijin) Kurosawa and Minoru Shibuya, respectively, had
stated that ''The evil in the system is none other than the evil in
human beings." The main character in Ikiru worked for over twen
ty years as a civil servant, and, just as the municipality, or the
system, becomes unwieldy through the increase in red tape and
the avoidance of responsibility, this man also becomes morally
debilitated. The main character in The Moderns^ also a civil
servant, accepted bribes, and the system which inevitably en
couraged graft could not help but bring about the downfall of
 § his humanity. Still, neither Kurosawa nor Shibuyawere as dialec-
^ tical in their approach as Oshima.
§ SoonafterDeath by Hanging theevil insociety and theevil inpeople
w were treated as a single, indivisible entity in Kumai's powerful
§ The Swarming Earth {Chi no Mure, 1970), about prejudice against
^ and among three of Japan's minority groups: resident Koreans;
> the victims of radiation diseases after Hiroshima and Nagasaki;
§ and the mikaiho buraku, outcasts, who are now discriminated
C/D ^ ^ ^
w against because they come from a specific geographical area, but
2 whose ancestors had been outcasts because their profession as
w leather tanners made them slaughter animals, a violation of Bud-
> dhist precepts. The main plot concerns the complications and ani
mosities that develop when a boy from the ghetto for the radiation
diseased is suspected of raping an outcast girl, and there is a
subplot revolving around the guilt feelings of the doctor, possibly
of outcast origins, who had made a Korean girl pregnant and
abandoned her, thereby triggering her suicide. In the beginning
of the film the characters from the mainstream of society seem
so good and upright that one is convinced that prejudice only
exists among the minority groups. However, later on, when their
position as members of the majority—and the implicit double
standard vis-a-vis minorities—is persistently questioned, they
cannot but reveal their underlying prejudices; and these scenes
form the significant crises of the drama.
In both Death by Hangingand TheSwarming Earth, evil is revealed
in apparently good people who break down when their position is
j questioned, and thus it is no longer the attribute of some archvil
lain who exists outside ourselves.
Compared with Oshima's and Kumai's view of villainy, that of
Satsuo Yamamoto—perhaps the most representative director of
the so-called socialist school—almost seems like a regression to
prewar days because Yamamoto excels in the realistic portrayals
of archvillains. His brilliant attack on the amoral entrepreneur
in A Public Benefactor {Kizudarake no Sanga, 1964), probably the
best depiction of an archvillain in postwar social protest films,
adds flesh and bones to the old evil-capitalist stereotype.
In Yamamoto's first filmafter the war. WarandPeace (codirected
by Fumio Kamei), he depicts a gang of strike breakers, but it
was censored by the Occupation authorities. He followed this
with other films ofvillains: the gangsters in Street of Violence; the ^
corrupt officers of the Imperial Army Home Corps in Vacuum w
^one (Shinku Chitai, 1952); the ruthless managers who try to «
break a prewar labor strike in The Sunless Street {Taiyo no J^ai ^
Machi, 1954); and in Uproar over a Typhoon {Taifu Sodoki, 1956), g
the local politicians who try to increase their disaster relief
compensation by tearing down the school—a caricaturization
resembling Gogol's The Inspector General. Yamamoto's list of
villains includes the CIA, brutal policemen, Nobunaga Oda (a
powerful sixteenth-century ruler), college professors—in short,
anyone who flaunts his power, becomes a pet of the powerful, or
is connected with power. In his films anyone who oppresses the
people is branded a villain, presented in his most despicable
aspect, and soundly beaten.
It is rare for any Japanese director to marshal such a colorful
assortment of villains and to continue to portray them as inter
estingly, skillfully, or consistently as Yamamoto. An important
characteristic of Yamamoto's films is that his villain frequently
becomes a charismatic figure, for instance, the capitalist in A
Public Benefactor, the professors who control the university medical
department in The Great White Tower, Nobunaga Oda in A Band
of Assassins, II {Pfku Shinobi no Mono, 1963). All of them show how
captivating a force power is to human beings, and an aura of in
toxication permeates their portrayal. The average leftist film
maker tries to conceal this fact, preferring to believe that his heroes
lead a revolutionary movement because of their wish to liberate
the people. However, by concealing this thirst for power their films ^
have a veneer of hypocrisy, which is why they are never as realistic
as Yamamoto's films.
Yamamoto's villains are tough, energetic, and intelligent. They
are men who also possess overwhelming personalities and are not
to be taken lightly. This point is illustrated in The Sunless Street
when the young female factory worker—a resolute fighter in the
struggle—suddenly decides to sell herself to a brothel because she
can no longer fight fair and square. The struggle is no place for
niceties and the workers are not angels. If the enemy is a monster,
you have to become one, too.
Yamamoto demonstrates the relationship between people and
power mostoriginally in The Song of the Cart[Nigurumano Uta, 1959),
 § a chronicle of the lives of a couplein a mountain village in central
^ Japan from about 1890 to 1945. The husband, a country drayman
§ (Rentaro Mikuni), has worked hard since his youth, and his wife
w had to make a great many sacrifices. However, late in life when he
§ gets his hands on a substantial amount of money, he takes a lazy
^ woman in her fifties for his mistress and forces the humiliation of
^ another woman in the same house upon his wife. The husband's
§ vision of the good life turns out to be only this parody of hap-
w piness.
2 After the war Yamamoto seized every opportunity to curse and
w revile power and all those connected with it. However, in The
> Song of the Cart, he detaches himself from this social problem to
observe the true face of the people, and comes up with this gro
tesque image. For Yamamoto, the people and those in power
are not really two different species of human beings. The indignant
attitude of the husband, when criticized by his family ("What's
wrong in taking a mistress?"), is not so different from that of the
entrepreneur when criticized for causing the people suffering
("What did I do wrong?"). They both have the power to do as
they please.
Yamamoto's realistic portrayals of people do not imply that a
"human revolution" should precede a social one, and this accounts
for the appeal of his grasp of the human condition. No matter how
foolish, the people must be supported; no matter how much cha
risma the powers that be have, they must be overthrown. The
energy to denounce the powerful as villains surely comes from
2^0 Yamamoto's definition of them as exploiters and oppressors.
Yet considering the transformation of the villain from the
leftist films of the 1930s, Yamamoto's films seem to lack something.
His villains, despite their vitality, still bear traces of the old capi
talist stereotype and are thus removed from modern realities.
Nowadays the responsibility for evil is borne by ambiguous
figures who do not appear to be villains at first glance. In this
age of the detective story, audiences need to see proof of the
villains' guilt, which cannot be seen through Yamamoto's devices.
Despite the appeal of Yamamoto's films it is Nagisa Oshima
who makes more representative films on the modern concept of
the complexity of evil. In the beginning of Oshima's career he
subscribed to the theory that delinquency is expressive behavior.
and he added a new dimension toJapanese crime movies because ^
all his criminals commit such acts to express some need or drive. ^
The college students in Night and Fog in Japan {Nikon no Yoru to p
Kiri, 1960) and the ronin and farmers who participate in a peasant ^
uprising in Shiro Tokisada from Amakusa {Amakusa Shiro Tokisada, §
1962) openly rebel against authority to fulfill certain needs, thus
transforming their behavior from criminal to revolutionary. In
The Town of Love and Hope^ once the boy's behavior is labeled
delinquent, he secretly decides to become a rebel. In these films
Oshima regards crime as a stepping stone to revolution, and at
the end of Cruel Story of Youth {Seishun Z^nkoku Monogatari^ 1960)
and The Sun's Burial {Taiyo no Hakaha^ 1960), he darkly suggests
that only by revolution can people realize their hopes and desires.
Pleasures of the Flesh {Etsuraku^ 1965) is the last film in which
Oshima still depicts the problem of dissatisfaction with a wretched,
hopeless existence in terms that anticipate a revolution. With
Violence at Noon {Hakuchu no Torima, 1966), he abandons such a
simple formula, for the sex crimes of its main character transcend
the bounds of social solutions and seem to be rooted in more fun
damental, even diabolic, human needs.
In Oshima's later films—A Treatise on Japanese Bawdy Song
{Nihon Shunka-ko, 1967), Japanese Summer: Double Suicide {Muri
Shinju Nihon no Natsu, 1967), Death by Hanging, Three Resurrected
Drunkards {Kaette Kita Yopparai, 1968), diuA Diary of a Shinjuku Thief
[Shinjuku Dorobo Nikki, 1969)—he seems to be experimenting
with the idea of a human craving for freedom that cannot be sat
isfied through social revolution, and he almost always repeats jyy
the despairing view that if people seek freedom, they can only
become criminals. The corollary of this, however, is the hope that
people ultimately cannot be domesticated, and if this is so, human
beings have the potential to become anything at all.
 •l' ^

N / 9

1. MIZOGUCHI
278 Kenji Mizoguchi, considered a first-rate film-maker in the silent
movie era, was ranked with Yasujiro Ozu and Tomu Uchida as
one of the most important directors in Japan in the late 1930s and
early 1940s. However, despite the acclaim, his films were also
subjected to critically severe attacks, which increased in number
after the war, until The Life of Okaru {Saikaku Ichidai Onna, 1952)
achieved success in France.
One critic, Matsuo Kishi, dismissed Mizoguchi's Meiji-period
films, in subject matter and techniques, as "hopelessly old-fash
ioned" {Nikon eiga yoshiki-ko, 1937).
"No matter where we turn we see the freedom of artistic expres
sion being taken away from us. Mizoguchi's response to this phe
nomenon seems to be a return to the beauty of 'the old days.'
Since an interest in curiosities isall right, we mayengross ourselves Q
in contemplation of quaint lamps, antique porcelains, and old w
handwoven fabrics. Whoever visits Mizoguchi nowadays finds >
him absorbed in these antiquarian pleasures, and this strange ^
devotion to meaningless trivia is so surprising that we can only h
say, 'Well, Mr. Mizoguchi, you do seem engrossed in old things.' o
"Both Taki no Shiraito and The Jimpu Group {Jimpuren, 1934) §
[about the samurai rebellions from 1874 to 1878]. . . are admi- ^
rable for their historical accuracy, but there is nothing of interest S
in The Downfall of Osen {Orizuru Osen, 1934) and Oyuki the Ma
donna {Maria no Oyuki, 1935). In these, historical authenticity is
only an attempt to cover up a conspicuous lack of characteriza
tion.. . . . They are uninteresting because the director has for
gotten to depict the relationship between human beings and the
era. The two-horse carriages trotting back and forth. . . and the
paper money tossed on the tatami mat may be authentic, but they
are not sufficient by themselves. Mizoguchi has gone too far in his
addiction to . . . details."
Similarly, another critic, Tadashi lijima, made an oblique
assault on Mizoguchi's old-style cinematography in an essay on
the latter's geido mono, films dealing with traditional Japanese arts
(taken from Gekkan bunsho. May, 1941).
"It is already standard procedure for Mizoguchi to employ
long shots in his films. Other Japanese directors do this, too, and
in fact, compared with European and American movies, Japanese
movies tend to consist mostly of long shots. There is even a school
of thought that considers this a particular expression of the Jap- jyg
anese temperament, although it is by no means limited to
Japan. As a rather rudimentary technique, it is common in coun
tries producing second- and third-rate films, and the expressive
power ofthese shots is debatable. Indeed there are manyJapanese
films where the use of the long shot does not differ from that in
second-rate films. This cannot be said for Mizoguchi's movies,
however, for in his austere depiction of the narrow world of tra
ditional Japanese performing arts, his long shot actually serves
an extremely important function, and the amount of time he
spends in visual contemplation is amply justified by the nature of
his subject. Yet if his artistic world is to expand, he will certainly
have to shake himself loose from such old modes."
g Despite these harsh words, both Kishi and lijima regarded Mizo-
^ guchi's works highly. One critic, however, did not, and sub-
§ jected Mizoguchi to a much more severe judgment. In Film and
the Modern Spirit {Eiga to kindaiseishin^ 1947), Tadao Uryu dismisses
§ Mizoguchi's Kabuki-like subject matter as old fashioned and his
^ views of humanity and aesthetics as"premodern," and condemns
^ his penchant for depicting servile geisha. According to Uryu,
§ Mizoguchi makes no attempt to break free from feudal, anach-
w ronistic values to penetrate the essence of humanity, resting con-
2 tent with superficial social relations.
w "As a man without a foothold in the present age, Mizoguchi
> immerses himself in material unrelated to the modern spirit. Fur
thermore, despite his choice of an intrinsically modern medium,
he ultimately proves himself incapable of using it and inevitably
resorts to his highly touted specialty—the long cut with the long
or full shot as its center.
''By emphasizing human relations he neglects to examine Man
himself, as well as evading his responsibility to analyze and crit
icize ; this results in an inevitable plunge into the realm of emo
tion. When film is properly used the director designs a dynamic
human structure by dissecting and then reconstituting Man. In
creating such cinematic reality, he must be prepared to make bold
cuts at the cost of continuity in time and place. Whether or not
enough elements have been incorporated into any one scene is a
false concern that should be avoided altogether."
The target of Uryu's attack was mainly Mizoguchi's war-time
jgQ films on traditional performing arts, and his outspoken, critical re
jection, unparalleled even today, never gained wide currency even
then. Moreover, since it was written before Mizoguchi advocated
women's liberation in Women of the Night [Yoruno Onnatachi^ 1948)
and My Love Burns, Uryu may have since relented.
At that time, however, it was the general feeling that while
Mizoguchi's technique was a refinement of the highest order, his
films were not progressive, harking back to the old, formalized
aesthetics found in Kabuki and Bunraku puppet theater. Conse
quently, Mizoguchi's slow tempo was mistaken for an inexplic
able addiction to old-fashioned sentiments and atmospherics,
qualities that contemporary Japanese regard with ambivalence.
The oft-heard remark that contemporary Japanese first learned
of the virtues of their cultural heritage from Westerners is totally 2
fatuous. However, ever since the Meiji Restoration in 1868 most w
Japanese have felt the call to embrace "progress" and "modern- >
ism." As a result, old artistic traditions came to be seen as spir- q
itual fetters that have to be cut off and destroyed. Although H
Mizoguchi's genius brought traditional aesthetic consciousness to g
its highest cinematic expression, he was often made a victim of ^
this ambivalence. Revered in Japan long before his greatness was ^
recognized in France, his apparent conservatism still irritated the w
Japanese film community.
After his European success with TheLife.ofOkaru, Ugetsu, Sansho
the Bailiff, and so on, and the recognition of the tremendous impact
of Mizoguchi's film techniques on French nouvelle vague films,
audiences in Japan abandoned the notion that he was old-fash
ioned. I, for one, was one of his many fans in the postwar genera
tion, and I never missed any of his films and was deeply disap
pointed when My Love Burns did not make the top ten list. When
The Life of Oharu premiered in Japan, I was sure that this was
Mizoguchi at his best, and I saw the film over and over again. At
that time the thought never occurred to me that his style was
old-fashioned.
The close relationship between Mizoguchi's style and the old
performing arts is apparent, and only in this limited sense can
his works be called premodern. His characteristic "one scene
equals one cut" technique, for example, is like the musical ac
companiment in traditional dance, in Bunraku puppet theater,
in Noh, and in naniwa hushi, popular storytelling accompanied jgj
by the samisen. Unlike the dynamic, rhythmic movements of
European dance and ballet, Japanese dance emphasizes the
beauty of shape, for the dancer momentarily holds a certain pose
or gesture. These moments are called kimaru ("form resolution"),
and in moving from one to the next, the body changes its balance
in a smooth, flowing manner. Similarly, Mizoguchi's one scene,
one cut technique is sequential motion; motion changing from
one exquisite shape to another. Short cuts cannot possibly capture
this subtle, relentless flow, which can only be caught by complex
camera movements like panning and craning. Thus, far from be
ing static, Mizoguchi's long one cut is filled with visual restless
ness, interspersed with interludes of breathless anticipation for.
g even as we watch, the structure ofany single scene is always in
^ the process ofdynamic transformation.
w Doubtlessly, the aesthetics of Japanese dance are deeply related
to the Buddhist notion of society and human life being in con-
g stant flux. Reality can never be grasped firmly, it changes from
^ moment to moment.
^ The dramatic structure of Osaka Elegy^ The Story of the Last
^ Chrysanthemums [^angiku Monogatari, 1939), and The Life of Oharu
w lies in this tense apprehension of reality as a constant flow. Other
2 Japanese directors have used the same dramatic structure, but
w Mizoguchi isdifferent in as much as he knew how to distill its essence
> —its tenaciously spiritual core—through the one scene, one cut
technique. I once wrote the following about it.
''His pans and camera movements not only show the subject in
the best possible light or express his point of view, but they par
ticipate in the drama by moving in such a way as to entrance the
viewer. The following scene in TheLife of Oharu is a good example.
A low-ranking court attendant and bodyguard (Toshiro Mifune)
is about to be beheaded for his liaison ,with Oharu, then lady-
in-waiting (Kinuyo Tanaka). . . . There is an over-all shot of
the place of execution, enclosed within a bamboo fence. Then
the camera lingers on the full-length figures of Mifune, bound and
kneeling, and his executioner, squatting in the background.
After Mifune shouts his last words ('May there come a world
where love is not a crime!'), the camera leaves his face to pan up
to the executioner's sword, held aloft with water dripping off it.
2g2 A tilt-up pan of the sword follows and then the camera freezes.
This movement is comparable to a stroke in calligraphy, when
pressure is applied at the point where the moving brush stops.
It is similar to exhaling, and the camera freeze elicits this sensa
tion. In the next instant the sword flashes down without a sound,
but the camera remains immobile, staring out into space.
"Unwaveringly, the kimaru moment has been resolved. Later
the sword moves back into the empty frame. The executioner,
having finished, now holds it aloft in his left hand. The sword
lingers there a moment, as if the executioner is stilling his own
breathing, agitated by the execution. Then, as he slowly begins
to lower it, the camera follows in a downward pan, which is the
end of this long shot. In the final pan down, the camera seems to
be hanging its head in profound sadness. In this manner, Mizo- Q
guchi's camera moves, stops, then moves again, thereby evoking w
moods as subtle and various as those produced by a Japanese >
dancer as she moves her arms, legs, or neck. ^
"A following scene features Oharu and her family, who have all H
been banished from the capital. It is dusk and, standing on the g
embankment of a river, they have just taken leave of well-wishers g
who have accompanied them this far, carrying lanterns. Oharu's ^
party then begins crossing a nearby bridge and the camera, on S
the dry river-bed below, takes in this view at a slightly elevated
angle. After they have reached the far embankment and have
become tiny figures, the camera moves forward, all the way under
the bridge, and begins peering up at them between the pillars.
''Until then the camera was so still that the viewer had no idea
it was mounted on a rail, and its forward movement, while under
stated, fits the mood of this scene to perfection. . . .
"By staying motionless the camera seems to be viewing the sub
jects from a distance, as if to say, 'Abandon hope and depart, you
unfortunate ones.' Then, appearing to relent, it stealthily creeps
forward to take one last look at the exiles trudging out of sight.
Although the director appeared to be cold and aloof, this single
movement reveals that he has also been viewing the scene with
compassion. His camera almost seems to be extending a helping
hand from under the bridge, sympathizing with the fate of
those human dots disappearing into the distance. The gloomy
despair captured by the camera from this angle could never have
been conveyed had the director used cut-backs or a following 183
movement."
While there are advantages to this method, there is also the
obvious danger of structuring a film according to a sequence of
beautiful resolutions [kimaru)^ an overinvolvement with a static,
superficial beauty. This was especially true in A Picture of Madame
Tuki [Yuki Fujin Ezu, 1950), Miss Oyu {Oyu sama, 1951), and Lady
Musashino [Musashino Fujin, 1951),where the pattern of relationships
in bourgeois society are depicted as "things of fleeting beauty."
The enchanting, almost precious quality of these films contrasts
sharply with the merciless, grotesquerealism of Osaka Elegy, Women
of the Night, My Love Burns, and Street of Shame {Akasen Chitai, 1956),
and sometimes it is hard to believe they were made by the same
 § director. Still, both types share a common theme of women suf-
^ fering in a crisis, and even though they differ in content, Mizo-
§ guchi remains true to his technique of multiple pans within the
S framework of one scene, one cut.
S The critic Tadao Uryu may have rejected this technique be-
^ cause it only evokes mood and emotion without treating its sub-
> ject analytically. However, when Mizoguchi comes to grips with
w raw, contemporary realities as in Osaka Elegy and Street of Shame,
w it is obvious that atmospherics and emotional build-ups were not
2 the sole objective of his technique. Although he was little con-
W cerned with beautiful shapes in these films, he still adhered to his
> one scene, one cut principle, with transitions using pans from one
completed composition to another, a feature entirely consistent
with his other works.
Even when there are movements in a single composition, as
when a character enters or leaves a room, the unique length of
his shot prevents jumps in time and space. This, coupled with a
subject—usually a woman—in a difficult predicament, strengthens
the feeling of suffocation in a hermetically sealed environment.
The suffocating impression he evokes is akin to the suppressed sound
of the musical accompaniment to traditional Japanese storytelling.
In it lies the so-called strong beat of stoic endurance, and a good
example of it can be found in the following scene from The Story
of the Last Chrysanthemums,
The mistress has called the maid, Otoku, into the parlor to
reprimand her for having designs on Kikunosuke, the adopted
234 son of this famous family of Kabuki actors. Otoku argues that
when she was seen alone with the young master, they had only
been talking about his performance that night. She had been
slightly critical but he had taken it well, and even seemed pleased
with her honesty. Otoku insists on her innocence, but her protests
only serve to increase her mistress's anger.
Mizoguchi films this long scene with a single shot in which he
makes use of a number of pans. The camera, first concentrating
on Otoku and the mistress, suddenly does a turnabout, taking in
the adjacent room through open sliding doors, where several
maids are eavesdropping. It was they who told the mistress about
Otoku and the young master, and their expressions show that they
are censuring her. The camera then does another turnabout, and
our attention is again riveted on Otoku and the mistress. Q
The unbroken flow of Mizoguchi's one shot method—active even w
within the narrow confines of the two rooms—conveys the hostility >
between Otoku and the other maids, and their positions—she ^
has her back to them—shows us their psychological relationship, h
Thus Mizoguchi is able to show us all the characters involved. o
As Otoku defends herself to the mistress, she is, at the same iz:
h-(

time, vindicating herself to the maids in the background. Since ^

she cannot see their faces, however, she cannot react to them but ^
only clarifies her own thoughts as she speaks. Thus, the camera
concentrates on Otoku and seldom cuts back and forth between
her and the other maids. Anyslight change of attitude is sufficiently
revealed in Otoku's facial expression, or in a positional shift in
her relation to the others, and their reaction is also shown thereby.
Mizoguchi constantly changes the positions of his characters,
having them move around in the frame of his single long shot.
He keeps constant track of his heroine's subjective development,
since any positional change reflects a change in her attitude or
behavior. While the positions are in constant flux, the oppression
in the feudalistic household remains the same, without a letup.
Mizoguchi's art is an expression of endurance and continuing
protest against relentless oppression. In this he has much in com
mon with traditional Japanese storytelling like Noh and naniwa
bushi, in which heavy oppression and sufiFering were formalized
into art. However, these formulas could not express the vitality
of individuals, a vitality that Mizoguchi manages to convey by
portraying people who assert themselves in the face of oppression,
be it social or sexual. Mizoguchi's art lies in transforming heavy
(oppressive) external conditions into heavy (strong) internal spir
it. He was one artist who, through his assertion of the individual's
will, was able to modernize this tradition from the inside.

2. OZU
Of all Japanese directors, Yasujiro Ozu has been considered the
most Japanese, to the extent that his films were not even entered
in international film festivals until near the end of his career. His
forte was a detailed, sensitive portrayal of the daily lives of average
or poor people—what the American film critic Donald Richie calls
 g shomin geki ("dramas about common people") and considers a
^ unique Japanese film genre. As mentioned in Chapter Two, how-
^ ever, the American films about average people made in the 1910s
and 1920s had a strong influence on Ozu. When these richly emo-
2 tional portrayals of simple folk in American cinema gave way to
^ more glamorous productions in the 1930s, Ozu stuck to the con-
^ tent and forms he learned from America and refined them. By
§ then he was able to imbue them with truly Japanese sentiments,
w and his formal beauty of style managed to transcend national
2 boundaries.
w Ozu almost always used the contemporary Japanese home as
> his theme: the love between parent and child, the reconciliation
between husband and wife, or the mischief of children. On the
surface he presents a modern Japanese life-style, which to those
unfamiliar with it could be boring. Since swordfighting movies
are both more appealing and more entertaining to foreign audi
ences, it is only natural that the first Japanese films to be interna
tionally recognized were Kurosawa's period dramas.
Yet an Ozu film, with its brilliant use of cinematography, is
never a simple, haphazard presentation of Japanese customs. It
is through Ozu's superb cinematic technique that the humor and
sense of order and tension inherent in the skillfully conceived forms
can be understood cross-culturally. It is the distinctiveness of Ozu's
style that makes it rare even outsideJapan, a style that was polished
in the course of his long career. Perhaps it is best to list here the
features that make up his style.
186
The Low Angle Shot, Ozu positions his camera just above the floor
or ground—at most two feet or so in height—and shoots his
scenes from a slightly elevated angle hardly noticeable if one is
sitting on tatami mats in a Japanese room. His camera never looks
down on people, except for certain shots of a road from a window.
Early in his career he used to shoot a bird's-eye view of things
placed on tatami mats, but he gradually came to avoid such shots.
Ozu never explained the reason for this penchant. Perhaps he
thought human beings were more dignified when viewed from a
slightly elevated angle, or perhaps this showed the interiors of
Japanese houses at their most calm and beautiful. Once he settled
on this camera angle for the underlying tone of his shot composi-
tions, shots from above probably would have been disturbing, and Q
he improvised with props in order to maintain this uniformity, w

The Stationary Camera. Ozu hardly ever resorts to a crane to move ^

his camera up and down, or a dolly. The few timeshe does this he H
is careful to avoid any changes within the composition. For exam- o
pie, hehas theactors walk at a steady pace in front ofa fixed back- g
ground like a moat or a wall, and he has the dolly pushed in a ^
straight line at exactly the same speed, thus maintaining his shot S
composition. In the scene in Early Summer where the two actresses
are walking down a sand dune, he used a rare crane shot in
order not to lose them.

The Arrangement of Characters. When two or more characters appear

in the same shot, they are often facing the same direction and as
suming the samepose. When sittingon tatami mats, they may even
lean forward at almost precisely the same angle. If two people
are fishing along a river bank, everything from the angle of their
fishing rods to the raising and lowering of the rods is the same.
They have become analogous figures within the same shot. Even
in situations which presuppose a face-to-face arrangement, such
as a conversation, Ozu prefers to have the characters facing the
same direction, lined along office desks, or sitting side by side in
front of a Japanese garden.
The following is an example from The Only Son. The son, de
pressed that his mother came all the way to Tokyo to see him in
his shabby state, talks things over with his wife, who is gazing at jgy
him tenderly. Considering the gravity of their conversation, the
actors could not face the same direction and nod in unison. The
husband is sitting in the left foreground facing right, and the
wife is in the right background, facing the camera. Despite this
unanalogous set up, when the wife is deep in thought during their
conversation, she inclines her head to the right, and thus her
figure becomes analogous with that of her husband, who is crouch
ed slightly to the right. Ozu used to direct his actors' move
ments to the centimeter, so it is certain that during this scene he
must have indicated the exact angle the wife had to incline her
head.
Ozu's arrangement of characters as analogous figures might be
 § motivated by the rejection of confrontation and the creation of
^ a harmonious world where two or more people share such similar
§ feelings they are almost like one body.
H
c/a

S The Avoidance of Movement. Ozu avoided violent action in his

scenes, and the only exceptions are the husband knocking his wife
> down the staircase in A Hen in the Wind and the husband beating
§ his wife in The Munekata Sisters. Not only did Ozu prohibit his
w players from aggressive behavior but he also restricted their
2 movement. They hardly ever walk across a shot, and ifthey do, it
g is only in the distance. He prefers shots from a stationary camera
> in the middle of a long corridor where the figure is only seen in
the center one-third, flanked on either side by a wall. Moreover,
when characters enter the frame, he never has them come in
suddenly from the side, but usually straight toward the viewer
from the opposite end of a corridor. When leaving they often go
behind the sliding door panels {fusuma) of the next room.
In the daily life of the Japanese, there are many occasions when
people just sit on the tatami-rmXltA floor and hardly move at all.
In order to present such immobility appealingly, one has to
detail slight changes in facial expression and hand movements.
This concern may have led Ozu to restrict insignificant movements
that will only distract the viewer's attention.

The Full-Face Shot of the Speaker. Ozu's aversion to having his

characters walk across the foreground of a frame may also be
J33 related to a desire to minimize profile shots as much as possible.
He likes to have his players seated together looking in one direc
tion, in profile or three-quarters profile, but when a character
delivers a line, Ozu brings the camera around so he or she faces
it almost head on (the actor gazes just to the side of the lens).
Thus, profile shots of a character delivering a line are exceedingly
rare in an Ozu film. In a conversation between two people facing
each other, Ozu changes his camera position each time the speak
er changes. Ozu did not use the usual method of inserting shots
from the side at appropriate intervals, preferring not to empha
size confrontation.
In conversations where the two people are not face to face,
Ozu often has them paired off vertically in the foreground and
background of the frame—the speaker looking at the camera, the G
other to the side. When they are sitting together facing the same w
direction, the one about to speak has to turn and face the other >
each time, and the camera moves around for afull-face shot. Thus ^
when people talk they are habitually filmed from the position of H
someone listening attentively to them, and hardly ever from the g
side or back. This, together with the low camera angle that never g
looks down on itssubject, is Ozu's trademark, notsimply a matter ^
of form but of courteous respect for human beings. ^
In order to take these alternating full-face shots of two people
conversing face to face, however, the camera has to be turned
to the opposite direction each time the speaker changes. In the
terminology of Japanese film studios this is called donderiy meaning
"a sudden reverse," and most directors are hesitant about using
it because it can confuse the viewer. They would shoot one party
from the front at a left oblique angle and the other at a right ob
lique angle, linking the shots by alternating the position of the
camera so that the camera eye intersects a hypothetical cross.
Although Ozu was told by studio personnel that the donden tech
nique confused the directions of the gaze of the two actors, Ozu
remained indifferent.

The Stability of the Size of Camera Shots. Even at the risk of going
against professional theory, Ozu was always more concerned with
making each shot a beautiful composition than with continuity,
a factor reflected in his determination of the size of shots. With
the exceptionof some extremely early films, Ozu never took close- jgg
ups, probably because they are unsettling no matter how well
done, and, apparently for the same reason, he never used telescopic
and wide-angle lenses. The basic sizes of his camera shots are:
distant view, full standing figure from the waist up, full seated
figure, and head and shoulders (the closest his camera ever moved
in). If there were as many as five characters in an intended shot,
he would move his camera back to include all five.
The above rules may seem simple, but it is exceedingly difficult
to adhere to them, especially when filming people sitting on tatami
mats in a Japanese room. If they are shot full figure and one of
them stands up, he or she would probably be partially out of the
frame. To avoid this ungainly image, Ozu would pull his camera
g backto include thestanding person in the frame. No other director
^ was as rigorous as Ozu in this, not only because ofthe tediousness
§ of the operation but also because if the seated person is the lead,
it is considered a mistake to reduce the frame size to accommodate
§ the movement of a less important role. The following is an ex-
^ ample from a scene in Early Spring,
^ At a dinner party an office girl is criticized by her friends for
§ flirting with one of them who is a married man. Indignant, she
w suddenly rises, and the camera quickly withdraws to take in her
2 standing figure. When a player becomes agitated, it is more com-
w mon to move the camera in on her: however, Ozu's camera move-
> ment is just the reverse since he dislikes fragmenting the frame size
and/or showing violent movements in the foreground.

Linking by Means of Cutting Alone. With the exception of The Life

of an Office Worker [Kaisha-in Seikatsu, 1929), Ozu never used a dis
solve to link shots in his films, probably because of the resulting
disruption, even for a few seconds, to his carefully worked out
composition. He eventually even abandoned fade-ins and fade-
outs, which he had used in his early talkies. Ozu was thus well
ahead of his time; for although they are now considered old fash
ioned, there used to be an established, worldwide rule to use
them between sequences even through the 1950s.

Curtain Shots. This term was probably first used by the prewar
film critic Keinosuke Nanbu. In place of fade-ins and fade-outs
jQQ between sequences, Ozu always inserts a number of shots of sce
nery, which Nanbu compared to the curtain in Western theater.
These shots both present the environment of the next sequence
and stimulate the viewer's anticipation—be it the big red paper
lantern of a neighborhood bar or the curved line of a small hill
near a residential area. When Ozu's films are shown on Japanese
television, these curtain shots are usually cut, a pity since they are
indispensable for regulating the overall tone of an Ozu film.

Tempo. The sets for an Ozu film are always carefully constructed
to match the tempo of the performance. Tomo Shimogawara,
the set designer for The EndofSummer [Kohayagawa-ke no Aki, 1961),
relates the following in Tasujiro Ozu: The Man and His Work [Ozu
Tasujiro—Hito to Skigoto^ by Jun Satomi, Tomo Shimogawara, 2
Shizuo Yamauchi, et al., Tokyo: Banyusha, 1972). w
*'The size of the rooms was dictated by the time lapses between >
the actor's movements. If one party gets up to walk somewhere, g
there has to be the right number of tatami mats to last while shots H
of the other party are inserted. Thus. . . Ozu would give me g
instructions on the exact length of the corridor. He explained that g
it was part and parcel of the tempo of his film, and this flow of ^
tempo Ozu envisioned at the time the script was being written. S
When the set was being constructed he would go through the floor
plan in great detail, therebycreating precise pictorial continuity.
"If two people are in conversation and one goes to call someone
from the second floor, the other left in the room is allotted that
much time. Since Ozu never used wipes or dissolves, and for the
sake of dramatic tempo as well, he would measure the number
of seconds it took someone to walk upstairs and so the set had to
be constructed accordingly."
Since a movie consists of fragmentary shots, if the interval
between them is shortened, the speed of the performance is in
creased so that it is faster than actual human behavior, which does
not disturb the viewer. When an actor gets up to leave a room,
the walk down the corridor can even be omitted with the follow
ing shot showing him already in, say, the hall. This is said to ac
tually produce a faster tempo.
Ozu, on the other hand, dislikes this speeding up process in
consecutive scenes, perhaps because he wants to reproduce the
pace ofdaily life without recourse to editing techniques. Of course,
his tempo is an aesthetically contrived one, with no trivial dis
tractions and a splendid rhythm added. In contrast to so-called
cinematic tempo, it is a creation in which time is beautifully ap
prehended in conformity with the physiology of daily occurrences.

Choreographic Acting Directions, In contrast, say, to a Mizoguchi or

Kurosawa film with impassioned performances, Ozu's char
acters are usuallycalm, taking their time and delivering their lines
with a slight smile. They not only move at the same pace but also
speak at the same measured rate. When Hisaya Morishige, an
actor with fast movements and a rapid delivery, appeared in The
End ofSummer, Ozu was reputedly irritated because the actor did
 g not follow his tempo, and after filming each scene, Ozu would
^ say ironically: "Yes, well done, well done. Now please give Mr.
^ Morishige our script."
^ Ozu made all his actors and actresses follow his tempo, and they
§ were given explicit directions, such as "walk over there for three
seconds and stop." For one scene in A Mother Should Be Loved
^ {Haha o Kowazu-ya^ 1934) it seems Ozu instructed actress Mitsuko
§ Yoshikawa to stir her tea with a spoon two and a half times and
w then turn her head to the left. It eventually took about twenty-
Q four hours of shooting time, and when she asked what was wrong,
w Ozu answered that her glance had to coincide with the turn,
> and that it was no good if either was ahead of the other.
Ozu manipulated his players like puppets but he created scenes
of incomparable, formal beauty, though they lacked in vitality.
Shohei Imamura, Ozu's assistant, criticized him for robbing his
actresses and actors of their liveliness and naturalness, and re
signed. Another director, Kozaburo Yoshimura, once said to me
that I had not included in my book on Ozu his remark that the
characters in Ozu's films were like vegetables. Ozu himself used
to say, "I'm not a dynamic director like Akira Kurosawa."
Considering the overall purpose of Ozu's cinematic style it
can be said that he wanted to make perfect still-life paintings on
film. Ozu shot each scene in its most settled mood, within the most
stable frame, charged with internal tension but linked on the sur
face by the most tranquil of sentiments. Film is said to be an art
of motion, however, and although all large movements and dy-
jg2 namic sequences are suppressed in Ozu's films, they are never a
collection of still photographs or cold geometric figures. Rather,
as a consequence of this extreme suppression, or in spite of it,
viewers concentrate more on what movement there is.
This is no mean feat because generally films lacking in action
bore people, even if they are beautiful to look at. Ozu, however,
captivated Japanese audiences for more than thirty years through
his original style, where slight movements were packed with con
siderable beauty, and the beauty in turn was steeped in meaning.
The drama centering around the home is probably the genre
best suited to Ozu, who worked in it throughout his career. His
style is easily distinguished by the similarity of situation, sets, and
scenery, and even the actresses and actors featured. Serious dis-
sension in an Ozu family, where good sense prevails, does not lead 2
to violent action, strong language, or agitated facial expressions, w
butis managed "inwardly" in delicate conversations. Since family >
relations are so close that everyone can understand each other o
without saying much, a slight change in facial expression or tone H
of voice carries profound meaning. o
Although Ozu experimented in various genres in his younger g
days—tragic love melodrama, one period drama, suspense films— ^
occasionally with interesting results, none of them succeed as w
much as his home drama masterpieces, probably because the con
tents gave full range to his talent for offering profound meaning
in slight actions. Since it is thought that content dictates form,
it follows that Ozu's penchant for home drama subjects led him
to these unipue forms. However, in my opinion, it was his deep
attachment to a tightly knit composition exuding quiet tension
that came before the contents. As form and content are inseparable
in that all works of art are a whole, it is meaningless to ask which
came first; however, Ozu's preoccupation with form isso thorough
that it deserves priority.
A good illustration of this is Tokyo Story, generally considered
Ozu's greatest work. It concerns one family, whose members are
neither noble nor base but are truly ordinary in character and
behavior. The parents visit their sons and daughters in Tokyo,
later the mother dies—ordinary, everyday incidents that occur in
all families. Yet the viewer comes away profoundly moved for,
while relating these happenings in the most tranquil way, Ozu
raises the deep, eternal problem of the eventual severance between 293
parent and child. In doing so, Ozu transcends national mores and
boundaries to leave a profound impression on people who under
stand the essence of his cinematic presentation. Ozu tries to pin
down the transience of lifeinside a very rigid framework, which is
ultimately defeating given life's elusiveness. However, the will
to try to pin it down highlights life's fleetingness even more and
deepens our appreciation of it.

3. EYE BEHAVIOR IN THE FILMS

OF OZU AND NARUSE
In the previous section we saw how Ozu avoided face-to-face shots
g in his films, preferring his characters to look in the same direc-
g tion. This was probably the result ofboth his liking for analogous
§ figures in a stable composition and his desire for people to avoid
looking directly into each other's eyes. While two people may
§ occasionally turn to look in each other's direction, the times their
^ eyes meet is limited.
^ In Japan it is considered both uncomfortable to look at length
§ into someone's eyes during a conversation and cold not to do so at
w all, so a proper balance has to be maintained. Most Japanese are
Q unaware of this process and are shocked to find that in some
w countries conversation is carried on while looking into the eyes of
> the other person.
To Ozu this peculiar Japanese trait was important. His use of
interiors of traditional Japanese houses is probably because they
are ingeniously designed to limit eye contact, apart from their
visual beauty. Besides the veranda [engawa) and garden, Ozu also
made adept use of the alcove [tokonoma]^ usually decorated with
a wall scroll and flower arrangement; the tea room hearth, shaped
so the host and guests may sit at right angles to each other; and
the farmhouse hearth where it is easier to sit and talk at right
angles. Floor cushions [zabuton) can also be placed so that host and
guest do not have to look into each other's eyes. Unlike the fixed
arrangement of table and chairs, whereby people are continually
facing each other, one's gaze is allowed to wander from the alcove,
the garden, or the person sitting next to one.
Another director who felt the same discomfort in direct eye
J94 contact was Mikio Naruse, who, like Ozu, excelled at portraying
the subtle, psychological interweaving of family relations. How
ever, since his style was not considered as rigorous as Ozu's and
his dramas not as profound, he was regarded as a "poor man's
Ozu" for a long time. Nevertheless, the originality of his style is
recognized today, and we see that it evolved largely from his own
shy personality.
Naruse was extremely mild-mannered and quiet, and it was
impossible for him to raise his voice or shout. Consequently, he
was poor at filming on location where loud instructions had to
be given to many people, and would limit such shooting to early
morning or late evening—when no one else would be there besides
his extras. As a reflection of his shyness, his films, too, were light
sketches of daily life in which violent scenes rarely surfaced. Their G
subtle, interiorized complications, rising from the tautness engen- w
dered by the characters' emotional cross-purposes, made them >
almost as tense as suspense movies. This tension is not expressed g
through heated verbal exchanges or energetic gestures but h
through eye behavior. Naruse fills his scenes with glances of af- o
fection or revulsion, scorn and malice, forgiveness and resignation; 2;
his characters look away unexpectedly, eyes seem to make contact ^
and then look away. w
In order to emphasize this eye behavior, Naruse simplified other
dramaturgical elements. He did not like intricate scripts and
would cut superfluous lines. He disdained elaborate sets, "a
nuisance," and his camera work was kept very simple, without
pans or ostentatious frame sizechanges. His direction avoided any
theatrical, flamboyant, or extravagant performances.
Naruse probably felt the above elements distracting because
he wanted his audience calm and settled so they could catch
glimpses of internal disturbance through slight eye movements.
This cinematic mode was evident in Mother {Okasan, 1952). The
older daughter grieves over neighborhood rumors concerning the
relationship between her mother, a widow, and a man who helps
her at her dry-cleaning shop. The man understands this simply
by the way she averts her gaze in his presence and, carrying on
as though nothing is amiss, he parts from them with a slight smile.
The father in The Whole Family Works is looking for an oppor
tunity to talk to his son about the financial problems involved in
sending him to school. His son avoids him, however, and their 295
silent discord is revealed when the father glimpses him holding a
confidential talkwith his brothers at the neighborhood coffee shop.
The youngest daughter in Lightning wants to lead a virtuous life
despite the bad influence of her brothers and sisters, but their
friends drop in and taunt her; glances filled with disgust flit back
and forth between everyone in the scene. In Sound of the Mountain
{Tama no Oto, 1954) the young wife and her sister-in-law are
dissatisfied with each other but keep silent about it, and merely
avoid looking into each other's eyes. This emphasis on eye be
havior is a superlative technique that cannot be rivaled in litera
ture, theater, or painting. In this respect, Naruse achieved a high
level of cinematicity, one that is different from Ozu's.
g Naruse and Ozu were not the only directors to artistically sub-
^ limate this Japanese psychological trait. Directors Teinosuke
^ Kinugasa and Mansaku Itami and the actor Sojin Kamiyama,
among others, have written essays on this. Of particular interest
§ are the following statements from A Code of Acting Directions {Engi
shido soan) in volume two of The Complete Works of Mansaku Itami
^ {Itami Mansaku zenshu),
§ "In. . . nonverbal acting, there is nothing more important
w and effective then eye behavior. . . . When performers assimi-
2 late the feeling of a role, their eye movements and the direction
w of their gaze turn out exactly as the director wishes, even when
> he gives no particular instruction.
"When the player does not understand the feelings of the char
acter at the time, if the director gives accurate and elaborate
instructions on eye behavior, the player will seem to have understood
them.
"At times when it is difficult to explain the feelings of the char
acter, say, when the explanation would become so complicated
that it would be better not to do it, as with children, I would rely
on the player's confidence in me, and, without giving any reasons,
would frequently specify mechanically the exact order of eye
behavior as regards direction and distance and movement. In the
final performance it appeared as if they understood each and every
thought."
This is one example in Japanese film theory where eye behavior
is placed at the core of a performance. The Japanese aversion to
jgg direct eye contact is probably related to their wish to avoid con
frontation. In the past when the vast majority of people were
paddy farmers—an occupation where cooperation is absolutely
necessary—disputes were frowned upon or were deftly sidetracked
to effect a compromise, and so the habit of averting one's gaze
can be considered a reflection of this social pattern. This does not
mean that the Japanese are always peaceful and always good at
compromising, but confrontation within one's own social circle
was avoided as much as possible. This is reflected in many ex
tremely pleasingJapanese films where almost no dramatic conflict
occurs, and we are merely shown kindred spirits looking at the
same beautiful scenery together.
 ese Relations
panese Films

10

1. THE BOMB
The first film to portray the devastation wrought by the atomic ^97
bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki was a Nichiei doc
umentary made shortly after the blasts. Although the film was
supposed to have been confiscated by the U.S. Army and taken to
America, it later appears that the production staff had concealed
some of it. When this was shown in 1952, the year the Occupation
ended, many Japanese saw for the first time some of the effects
of the holocaust.
In the Occupation years it was strictly prohibited to criticize
America's role in the tragedy, and the only way the subject could
be broached in film was sentimentally, as in The Bells of Nagasaki
{Nagasaki no Kane, 1950), the first feature-length Japanese film
on the A-bomb, based on the best-selling memoirs of Dr. Takashi
g Nagai, a former professor at Nagasaki Medical College who died
^ of radiation-induced leukemia in 1951. Dr. Nagai was a Roman
^ Catholic who regarded the atomic blast as a heaven-sent trial to
be endured, and the film version concentrates on Dr. Nagai's
g own perseverance in the face of tragedy. Its director, Hideo Oba,
^ circumspectly presents the explosion through the eyes of young
^ evacuees, who see it as a mushroom cloud rising between distant
§ mountains. Thus, the extent of the devastation was avoided, as
w was any criticism of America for dropping the bombs. However,
2 this latter prohibition may not have been altogether necessary in
w postwar Japan since many Japanese shared the feeling that war
> is cruel, that the Japanese military committed various atrocities,
and that Japan was also to blame for starting the war.
While The Bells of Nagasaki attempted a faithful portrayal of a
human being's resolve in the face of approaching death, Tomo-
taka Tdisaksi's ril Never Forget the Song of Nagasaki [Nagasakino Uta
wa Wasureji^ 1952) was pure sentimental rubbish. The heroine
(Machiko Kyo), the beautiful daughter from a good family, is
blinded during the Nagasaki blast and consequently loathes all
Americans. Along comes a young American, symbolizing the
pilot who dropped the A-bomb, who is sincerely contrite and seeks
forgiveness. Eventually, she discards her hatred and falls in love
with him, a gesture that symbolizes forgiveness of him and of
America.
The film, with its absurd theme of ''let's forget our grudge
about the Bomb," served only to embarrass the viewer. Its lack
of reality may be attributed to the director, who himself was a
victim of Hiroshima and had been hospitalized for a long time.
However, his major theme—complete and utter loyalty and hu
manism consisting of a deep love for one's countrymen—without
the ingredient of objectivity, quickly degenerates into shabby
submissiveness to one's fate. The film only too clearly revealed the
gullibility of some Japanese.
Japan's first, real anti-Bomb film was Children of the Atom Bomb
(Genbaku no Ko^ 1952), in which penitence is finally transcended,
and the director, Kaneto Shindo—through flashbacks of events
before and after the Hiroshima blast—paints a lyrical portrait of
the quiet endurance of the living. In no way a contrite, romantic
melodrama, Shindo raises, for the first time, the important issue
ofJapan's responsibility inforsaking the living victims ofthe holo- ^
caust. The film was released during the Korean War of 1950-53, w
when threat of another atomic bomb attack on North Korea or o
China loomed, but itwas not sufficiently powerful to start an anti- ^
Bomb movement. To fill this gap came Hideo Sekigawa's Hiro- ^
shima {Hiroshima, 1953) (which was financially backed by theJapan ^
Teachers' Union). §
Sekigawa strove to reconstruct, as faithfully as possible, the w
horror of the holocaust, and this contrivance was its chieffailing. ^
Despite memorable, tragic scenes, such as the one where scorched >
victims dive into the river for relief (later included in Alain g
Resnais's Hiroshima Mon Amour), on the whole it lacked the polish ^
of an artistic statement. Nevertheless, Sekigawa's simple, forth
right approach struck a responsive chord in many Japanese,
temporarily uniting them in their antiwar sentiments.
Hiroshima crystallized anti-Bomb sentiments better than Children
of the Atom Bomb, which changed the Bomb from a historical
to a present-day problem by raising the issue of the victims suf
fering from radiation sickness. This issue was also treated in several
later Japanese films, notably Tadashi Imai's A Story of Pure Love
and Fumio Kamei's documentaries, IPs Good That We're Still Alive
{Ikite Ite Tokatta, 1956) and The World Is Terrified {Sekai wa Kyofu
Suru, 1957), but due to their old-fashioned, run-of-the-mill approach
there is no way of ascertaining the directors' views of the signi
ficance of the Bomb.
Kurosawa deals directly with the significance of the Bomb in
Record of a Living Being by treating it for the first time as a psy- ^gg
chological force devastating human life from within, rather than
simply as an outer force of destruction. As mentioned in Chapter
Seven, the small entrepreneur was prevented from emigrating by
his family, and his resulting insanity could be considered the
degenerative end of his fear of the Bomb. Moreover, the family,
a primary source of spiritual strength for the Japanese, is first
devastated from within by dissension and later symbolically ruined
when its head, the father, goes mad.
Record of a Living Being can also be further interpreted in the
context of the nation. Kurosawa may have been questioning the
issue paradoxically: everyone fears an atomic holocaust but no
one wants to flee from it because of his attachment to his country.
 Q Even in the face ofpossible annihilation ofthe human race, people
^ go about their business in the usual way. When offered the chance
^ to escape they may become aware of the situation but are thrown
in a quandary whether to leave or stay. Although Kurosawa does
g not state this theme explicitly, he seems to be saying that as long
^ as people are completely satisfied with life in their country, they
^ will not be able to come to grips with the issue of the Bomb.
§ Viewed in this light, Kurosawa does not necessarily—as stated in
w Chapter Seven—confuse the issue of the Bomb with a family prob-
2 lem. The latter only arises out of love for one's own country. The
w real confrontation for him is between nationalism and the terror
> of the Bomb.
The significance of the Bomb was also taken up by Kaneto
Shindo in Lucky Dragon No. 5 {Daigo Fukuryu-Maru^ 1959), based
on a real incident concerning a Japanese fishing crew con
taminated by fallout in the Bikini Islands. Shindo presents the
Bomb as a quiet menace that infiltrates our daily lives. While
Lucky Dragon No. 5 cannot be counted among his masterpieces,
it is a powerful work devoid of romantic embellishment and flashy
sensationalism of any kind. It is a simple, straightforward por
trayal of the struggle between human endeavor and the con
taminating influence of the Bomb—a struggle that can only
be won if all human beings work together. Later, Shindo again
depicts this struggle in Lost Sex, about a man who becomes im
potent as a result of atomic radiation.

200
2. THE GENRE
The word rashamen is a derogatory term applied to a Japanese
woman who becomes the mistress of a Westerner. The modern
equivalent is onri (''only"), which in the immediate postwar period
referred to a Japanese woman who devoted her attentions to only
one GI. Joint American-Japanese productions turned out movies
about such love affairs frequently after the war. Sayonara (Marlon
Brando and Miiko Ko), Teahouse of the August Moon (Glenn
Ford and Machiko Kyo), and Flight from Ashiya (George Cha-
kiris and Eiko Taki) are the best-known examples. While they
were successful abroad, in Japan these films were miserable fail
ures. It was almost as if Japanese audiences felt sorry for the
Japanese men in such films. Hence, this kind ofjoint production ^
came to be called rashamen movies. g
Rashamen was indeed a fitting term because such films made o
Japanese viewers uneasy, bringing home the parallel that Japan's ^
relationship with America had probably been that of geisha and ^
patron. However, theJapanese themselves were not above making ^
similar movies subsequent to the Sino-Japanese War of 1937, and a §
perfect example is Vow in the Desert [Nessa no Chikai^ 1940). The w
hero of this, a Japanese engineer, ispart of the work force building ^
a road from Peking to Mongolia. Although he claims the road is ^
for the Chinese people, it is obviously intended for military g
use, and communist guerrillas are constantly attacking it. The g
engineer's sweetheart, the daughter of a rich Chinese in Peking,
tries to turn her people against these guerrillas by convincing them
of the good intentions of the Japanese. She was played by Yoshiko
Yamaguchi, a Japanese actress who went by the Chinese name of
Li Hsian-lan (or Ri Koran, as the Japanese pronounce it), whom
audiences of the time thought was Chinese. Her lead was the
famous nimaime-iy^t actor, Kazuo Hasegawa.
This love story between a Japanese man from the conquering
side and a Chinese woman from the conquered side symbolized
the need for cooperation. Moreover, it rationalized events because
it allowed the conqueror to think that because he loved the con
quered, no force had been used to bring about submission.
The conquered side, however, felt both the physical pain of losing
and the psychological pain of serving the conqueror. The old
concept of the man conquering the woman in sexual intercourse 201
may also have played a part here, revealing the strong hold of the
idea of male dominance despite modern ideas of sexual equality.
Other Japanese films dealing with the same theme but with
different renditions include Song of the White Orchid [Byakuran no
Uta, 1939), China Night [Shina no Yoru^ 1940), and SuchowNight {Soshu
no Torn, 1941). There was even one made about a Japanese man
and an Ainu woman—the equivalent of a love story between a
white settler and an Indian woman in an American cultural
setting. In postwar rashamen movies Japanese and American roles
were simply reversed, with the Americans on top instead of the
Japanese.
For some time after the war Japanese film producers also made
 § rashamen-X.y^^ movies ostensibly to promote goodwill between
^ America and Japan. One curious example is the previously
§ mentioned Pll Never Forget the Song ofNagasaki, Strangely enough,
for this film an ultra-right scriptwriter, Tsutomu Sawamura, who
§ had promoted militarism and praised the war effort in prewar
^ and war-time scripts, worked with the director Tomotaka Ta-
^ saka, whose artistic war-time masterpieces like Five Scouts and
§ Mud and Soldiers emphasized the human side ofJapanese soldiers,
w When these two made a thoughtful film about the Bomb, they
2 came up surprisingly with a love story between an American
w man and a Japanese woman. In effect, their submissive attitude
> toward the prewar Japanese military was simply transferred to
a postwar, powerful America. The film's sentimental message
was that America's guilt in the sufferings of the Japanese would
make America assume a soft attitude toward Japan. In other
words, it is like the petulant wife, who, after being soundly beaten
by her husband, feels his love for her even more. In this mas
ochistic way of bringing up the subject of the Bomb, it was thought
that America's love for Japan, which does not bear any grudges,
would increase.
That men with such masochistic dispositions could make
some of the best Japanese war movies is enough to shatter the
manly, military stereotype, one that is mainly propped up by
submissiveness. In this way a large number of loyal Japanese
militarists during the war became equally loyal pro-American sup
porters after the war. They had not seen the error of their ways,
202 they suddenly been converted to a new way of thinking;
rather, they were like the widow who will marry any man she can
get.
After ril Never Forget the Song of Nagasaki this submissive stance
toward America vanished completely from Japanese films about
the atomic bomb, as did Japanese rashamen movies themselves in
the 1960s. In 1961 America turned the rashamen theme around in
Bridge to the Sun, about a Japanese diplomat (James Shigeta) who
marries an American girl (Carroll Baker). The hardships they
endure in war-time Japan are depicted realistically and Carroll
Baker cut a gallant figure in the fields in her mompe, baggy
pants worn by Japanese women during the war. The director,
Etienne Perrier, was a Belgian and an independent director in
France. From France also came Alain Resnais's Hiroshima Man ^
Amour, another film that reversed the rashamen model. S
Resnais's story concerns a French actress (Emmanuele Riva) o
who comes to Hiroshima to make an antiwar movie. Her love ^
aflfair there with a Japanese man (Eiji Okada) brings back painful ^
memories of her own war experiences. In both films the mature ^
presentation of the contact between two equal individuals from §
different cultures served to emphasize the unreality of typical w
rashamen movies, where the man supposedly comes from a superior ^
country and the woman from an inferior one. ^
Perhaps because Japan's relations with China in the 1940s g
and with America in the postwar years were unequal, Japanese g
films could only portray love stories like Vow in the Desert and
rashamen movies. Friendship between Japanese and Chinese or
Americans of the same sex on an equal basis still seems unreal to
Japanese audiences today, even though the young do not have
any inferiority complex toward Americans, and a love story
between an American man and a Japanese woman, albeit an
noying, still appears more real.
In Japanese films of the 1960s, three films appeared that re
versed the rashamen theme. While American movies continued to
depict Japanese-American friendship by a love story between a
Japanese woman and an American man, Japanese films reversed
the trend by pitying Americans instead of being pitied by them.
The first was Black Sun [Kuroi Taiyo, 1964) by Koreyoshi Kura-
hara, about the relationship between a Japanese youth and a
black American soldier. The Japanese, a jazz aficionado, admires 203
American blacks for their talent in jazz. He meets a black soldier,
a farm boy who knows nothing about modern jazz, and when
shown photos of black musicians, simply says, "Those guys are
really making it in white society." The young Japanese is disillu
sioned but gradually comes to feel friendship for the soldier. In
one scene the Japanese, who seems to be going mad, puts white
powder on the black's face and they parade through the streets like
chindonya, Japanese street musicians who advertise store openings
and the like. They are eventually chased by American MPs and
Japanese police, their common enemies, and this episode seals
their friendship.
The second divergence from the rashamen syndrome is Hiro-
 g michi Horikawa's to the Gang in Moscow {Saraba Mosukuwa
^ Gurentaiy 1968), where jazz again becomes an important element.
§ The hero (Yuzo Kayama), a pianist and ex-impresario, occa-
sionally gets his old group together for a jam session in some hole-
§ in-the-wall coffee shop. One day a tall, lanky American arrives
^ with a letter of introduction from a mutual Japanese friend in
^ New York. The American is a soldier in Vietnam on leave in
§ Tokyo and since he can play the piano, Kayama lets him join
w their session. ''You're pretty good," he says, "but your jazz is a
Q monologue. True jazz has to be a dialogue." The American takes
w offense. "When it comes to jazz, an American should know more
> about it than you." The drummer in Kayama's group retaliates
that jazz is no longer the exclusive domain of Americans, and the
American leaves in a huff.
On a rainy day before the American is due in Vietnam, how
ever, he comes around again and asks Kayama to let him play.
Kayama complies, and after the American finishes Kayama
acknowledges the plaint of a certain anger and pain in his solo
performance and expounds on the philosophy of jazz. "Yeah.
. . . You rzzw do a solo dialogue with jazz. . . . You just answer
yourself. . . . That's what your performance was. . . . Don't
forget what you did today." The young American is deeply
moved, and bows politely and leaves.
A Japanese teaching an American is rarely depicted in postwar
Japanese movies. It is plausible here since the Japanese is a top
pianist and the American still a fledgling. However, without the
2Q4 background of the Vietnam War it would loseits reality for Japa
nese audiences. That war allowed the Japanese to discard their old
inferiority complex, even if they were not deluded into thinking
they were morally superior. When Kayama looks pityingly at the
American going to Vietnam, he shows the extent to which the
postwar Japanese have regained their self-confidence.
In the film Kayama goes to Moscow to introduce Japanese
jazz to the Soviets. There he makes the acquaintance of a Russian
youth alienated by Soviet oppression, who can only find relief
in playing his trumpet at a'cafe where he hangs out with the rest
of his gang. Kayama goes there and forms a trio with a bass-
playing American tourist he meets in Red Square and a Japanese
diplomat who plays the clarinet, and through their jam sessions
he teaches the Russian kids what jazz is all about and establishes >
international solidarity. w
While fairly sentimental, the film is nevertheless epoch-making o
for it allows a self-confident Japanese to pity a Vietnam-bound ^
American and a freedom-seeking Russian—and, by analogy, to ^
pity the two most powerful nations in the world. ^
The third example of the reversal of the rashamen theme is §
Yoshitaro Nomura's OA, Your Love! {Aa Kimi ga Ai, 1967). The w
story is about a young, respectable doctor and his older sister, ^
who had supported his education by working in an office in the ^
port of Yokosuka. One day the brother learns that his sister has g
an American boyfriend, a sailor, presently on duty off Korea, g
A .letter arrives from him and the sister asks her brother to read it
as it is in English. In the letter the sailor asks her to marry him;
however, her brother lies and says it is from a fellow sailor in
forming her that her sweetheart was killed in action. Later, in
order to convince her, the brother goes to the U.S. Naval Head
quarters and gets a fake notification from an officer who frowns
on fraternization between enlisted men and Japanese women.
Thereafter, his sister turns to the botde, ruining her health,
eventually having to convalesce in the country. Her brother sends
her money until one day, as if to expiate his guilt, he confesses
to a forgery, thereby ruining his future, and leaves the city to
live together with his sister.
Despite its melodramatic overtones a thought-provoking poli
tical analogy can be made from the film. The brother represents
progressive Japanese intellectuals who are humiliated by Japan's 205
subordinate and dependent position vis-a-vis America, rein
forced by the sister's affair with an American. The submissive
attitude beneath rashamen movies—and the feeling of the people
in general—is represented by the sister who does not care if people
look down on her for being a GI's girl since she is better off
through her relationship with him. Her humiliated brother adopts
an anti-American stance by forcibly severing her relations with
the American, resulting in his sister's misfortune. The only thing
he can do for her is to give up his successful career and take care
of her. The tragedy reflects Japan's political dilemma, its ambi
valent position vis-a-vis America. The author of the original
novel, Ayako Sono, seems to be posing the following question to
 0 progressive Japanese intellectuals: ''I can recognize a justifiable
^ emotional basis for your anti-Americanism; however, are you
g really sure that if you came to power, the Japanese people would
be better off?" This analogy might be a bit strained, however,
§ because although the American sailor never makes an appearance,
he is supposed to be as pathetic as the sister and brother, not some-
^ one who can be relied on.
§ The Japanese, who had been pitied by Americans ever since
w the Occupation, are now pitying Americans. This may have
2 pleased many Japanese, but reality is sacrificed here because it is
w doubtful whether American soldiers were really that pathetic or
> whether Japanese gained moral superiority by pitying them.
Perhaps one could make friends with the frail, lanky American
soldier in Farewell to the Gang in Moscow \ however, that boy, with
tears in his eyes, is on his way to Vietnam to kill, and that in itself
makes him an unlikely object of pity.
Japanese films which depicted friendship for American sol
diers through pity are actually based on the premise of self-pity,
as in Farewell to the Gang in Moscow^ where the self-confident pianist
suffers from a nameless frustration and reveals that he is not so
sure of himselfafter all. These movies are attempts to linkJapanese
sentiments of alienation with the most alienated segments of the
American population. This can succeed if any feeling of superi
ority on the Japanese side is avoided, for friendship between
alienated Japanese and Americans could develop through anti-
establishment sentiments. An example is the warmth some Jap
anese felt for Vietnam deserters, or for the black American who
206
claimed on Japanese TV that the American authorities dropped
the Bomb on Hiroshima because the Japanese were not white,
and that the common enemy of blacks and Japanese alike is
white racism. When such feelings of friendship gradually spread
and solidify, the rashamen genre might become a thing of the past.
The attitude upholding this genre will not die overnight, how
ever, judging from the Japanese view of other Asian countries
with whom Japan is supposed to have friendly relations. Japan's
''friendship" for them has already been demonstrated in several
joint movie productions with Thailand or Hong Kong. Without
exception these films are love stories of a Japanese man and the
foremost beauty there. Their Japanese heroes do not care a fig
for Japanese women, and by offering their love to Thai or Chi- ^
nese women, reveal Japan's sincerity of intent toward Thailand w
or Hong Kong. However, these movies could also be postwar o
editions of Vow in the Desert, in which imperial Japan offered its ^
love to China. ^
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207
1. THE BACKGROUND: HANI AND MASUMURA
An important transition period in Japanese film history occurre
in the late 1950s, signaled by a new approaeh to direction and filn
making. This was first apparent in Children in the Classroom {Kjn
shitsu no Kodomotachi, 1955), a short documentary made at Iw£
nami studios for the Ministry of Education. Its director, Susum
Hani, was relatively unknown then and its documentary-style (
presentation introduced a fresh approaeh to film. Critics applaude
this innovative piece of work, and the following year Han
who had beeome famous overnight, made a similar doeumentan
Children Who Draw Pictures [E o Kaku Kodomotachi, 1956), whic
was billed with a feature, a rare distinction.
These two reeords of classroom behavior may seem ordinar
today because Hani had anticipated the methods used in teh
vision and other documentaries. However, when they were re- §
leased, audiences were struck by how natural the children were, ^
leading one critic to assume that a camera had been hidden in q
another room for the filming. However, Hani had set up the ^
camera in the children's classroom, made friends with them, §
and they gradually overcame their nervousness and appeared ^
completely uninhibited in front of the camera. §
After this success Hani went on to make Bad Boys {Furyo Shonen^ ^
1961), a full-length feature about juvenile delinquents on the w
streets of Tokyo, in detention areas, and in reform schools. In it c3
Hani combined his new documentary style with the use of ama- p
teurs, even incorporating some of their own experiences. This
came about completely accidentally because one day the boys
did not bring their script and refused to say their lines as directed.
At this juncture Hani explained the situation they were filming
and asked the boys what they themselves would say. They re
sponded enthusiastically and determined their own lines, gestures,
and movements, which Hani then proceeded to incorporate.
The documentary impression was thereby strengthened, as
though Hani had filmed their actual behavior with a hidden
camera. Moreover, his camera angle was always perfect and he
gave equal weight to all the necessary shots, thus creating a feature
film with a refreshingly new texture.
In the feature and the short documentaries, Hani's main con
cern was not to project what was in the script but to reflect reality
as accurately as he could. (Film realists also share this love for
realism, but they usually resort to fictionalizing after choosing 209
what they consider to be "realistic images.") Hani's approach was
to use the ideas of the subjects themselves, nonprofessional per
formers, and not to rely solely on his own imagination. He did
not see himself as a director "ordering" his performers but as a
friend, and the camera simply caught the results. Since the recorded
happenings were imbued with an air of amiability and harmony,
some viewers were even disappointed at the lack of a harsher
aspect of reality. Nevertheless, until Bad Boys, human behavior
had never appeared so genuine in a feature film, and Hani used
this approach again with tribal black Africans in TheSongofBwana
Toshi [Buana Toshi no Uta, 1965).
Between Bad Boys and The Song of Bwana Toshi, Hani made a
 g "pure" feature. She and He {Kanojo to Kare, 1963), in which the
^ main roles were played by professionals. As in his documentaries,
§ he still attempted to capture reality in all its complexity, even
down to the actual surprise he experienced while filming, present-
5 ing ambiguity as ambiguity while intimating that something very
important lay therein. The theme of She andHe is relatively simple,
^ a comparison between the desolation of human relations in a
§ modern apartment building and the closeness of the poor in a
w ragpickers' slum, and Hani made superb efforts to capture the
2 feeling of loneliness experienced by the apartment dwellers. The
w seemingly meaningless shots of the walls inside an apartment, the
> urban scenes, the daily conversations and activities of the char
acters all take on a fresh texture and seem to be telling the viewer
something.
Before the filming Hani and his scriptwriter, Kunio Shimizu,
only had a general format, adding lines as they went along. Words
limit meaning, and Hani consciously avoids a theme that can be
conceptionally summarized by words. He focuses on presenting
feelings and desires themselves, for to him the essence of human
beings lies in those needs that cannot be verbalized—a new percep
tion.
A second important change in Japanese cinema of the late 1950s
was the birth of a new young hero and the development of a
lighter, faster tempo in editing, as shown by Yasuzo Masumura's
first three films, made in 1957: Kisses {Kuchizuke)^ A Cheerful
Girl [Aozora Musume), and Warm Current [Danryu), At the time of
2jq its release, film critics ignored Kisses because it seemed to con
form to the well-worn genre of films about youth [seishun eiga).
However, as was later evident, Masumura rejected the old for
mulas of the genre, and his hero was neither mild-mannered, ro
mantic, nor especially good-looking, but rather audacious and
perpetually angry. He was not the first Japanese version of the
angry young man—rich, profligate youths had to some extent
raised hell before him—but he was the most significant because
he was a poor boy from the masses. In contrast to previous youth
ful heroes, he gives vent to his frustrations through exaggerated
actions rather than through languishing melancholically, for
sympathy was the last thing he wanted. Thus, there are no at
mospheric props or sentimental effects in Kisses, and the young
hero is going to fulfill his thwarted needs through action alone. §
Adults who do not understand him are simply caricatured by the ^
director, who is announcing his desire to make new films for and o
with the younger generation. ^
The freshness in Kisses becomes all the more vivid in A Cheerful §
Girl, where it takes on the garb of light comedy. Then Masumura m
did a remake of Warm Current, Kozaburo Yoshimura's prewar §
masterpiece that had come to be regarded as a classic love story. ^
By increasing the tempo to the violent pitch of an action film, ^
however, Masumura succeeded in surprising the audiences and S
in making them laugh. The characters were neither foolish nor o
absurd, but as they all behaved so frankly and acted so openly,
the comic effect was further heightened. There was also a thrill
in their audacious frankness, as in the scene where the heroine
sees her boyfriend off at the crowded railway station and shouts,
"I don't care if I only become your mistress; Til still be waiting
for you."
The scriptwriter for Warm Current, as well as A Cheerful Girl, was
the relatively unknown newcomer, Yoshio Shirasaka. When he
joined forces with Masumura to produce such bold, iconoclastic
films, the viewing public had the premonition that a new age
had dawned in Japanese cinema. In 1958 the Masumura-Shira-
saka team came out with Giants and Toys {Kyojin to Gangu); Shohei
Imamura made his directorial debut with Stolen Desire and Endless
Desire [HateshiNaki Tokujo); and newcomers like Kihachi Okamoto
and Tadashi Sawashima were also attracting attention. All these
new directors favored active characters brimming with vitality, 21I
and adeptly depicted exaggerated action—close to that in
musicals—and a fast, energetic tempo. Their methods often
induced laughterfrom their audience and thus sharply contrasted
with the old directorial school, whose effects were emotional,
passive, and introspective.
At first these new directors had more common points than dif
ferences; however, each would later develop his own methodolo
gies. As for Masumura, this was already evident in Giants and
Toys, where the hero continually resists becoming a mere cog in
the mechanism of modern society. A sense of anguish already
begins to show through the laughter, and in his later films this
deepens together with the almost abnormal and wild behavior of
 § his characters—people trying to overcome adversity. Masumura
^ went on to portray people with stronger egos, and through
§ their apparently mad behavior, he forces Japanese viewers to
ponder about the true nature of human beings.
§ Masumura antagonized some critics who claimed that he sac-
rificed reality, emotion, and atmosphere for exaggerated be-
^ havior. He retaliated in an essay, saying that these qualities had
H been overvalued in Japanese film previously. In films with "re-
w ality," social pressures were delineated in detail, and while they
Q made the viewer aware of "the evils of society," they suggested
w only resignation. When the film-maker sympathized with this
> resignation and shed gentle tears over the defeated, his films were
praised for their "emotion" and "atmosphere." Masumura re
fused to recognize this denouement, stating that he ignored social
environment on purpose so as to portray people who act like
maniacs, thereby calling attention to the ego and expressing him
self by exaggerating it.
Masumura claimed that he had learned the above during his
study at the Centro Sperimentale in Rome some years before.
However, here it is worthwhile examining the influence of the
controversial "sun tribe" {taiyozoku) films which preceded Masu
mura and in which the ego was emphasized. The sun tribe re
ferred to teenagers who hung around beaches during the summer
vacation. They were made famous by novelist Shintaro Ishihara's
early works, three of which were made into movies in 1956:
Season of the Sun {Taiyo no Kisetsu), Punishment Room {Shokei no
212 Heya), and Crazed Fruit {Kurutta Kajitsu). All three films created
a stir because they were rather raw and lurid portrayals of the
delinquent behavior of rich, aimless youths, and many felt they
had a bad influence on the public at large. Consequently, tighter
censorship was considered necessary, and the Japanese Board of
Censors, Eirin, was forced to disassociate itself from the film
industry and become independent.
In those days Shintaro Ishihara's message seemed to be: rather
than worry about the whys and wherefores of society, first run wild
and steep yourself in life's intoxication. While Season of the Sun,
directed by Takumi Furukawa, was simply a timely expose of
juvenile delinquents. Punishment Room was a fairly powerful, orig
inal film, since director Kon Ichikawa appended a serious.
moral question lacking in Ishihara's novel—namely, how can the §
older generation cope with the aimless protest of the younger ^
generation? Crazed Fruit was the first really faithful adaptation, q
for director Ko Nakahira captured the sense ofintoxication ofthe ^
original and expressed Ishihara's premonition that these rich §
youths, who had been raised without restraints, were the harbin- w
gers of an age of rapid economic growth and free sex. §
In an essay entitled Is This a Breakthrough? The Modernists in ^
Japanese Cinema {^'^Sore wa toppako ka?Nihoneiga nokindaishugishatachi^''
Eiga July, 1958), NagisaOshima, an assistant director at the cS
time, summed up the reverberations of the ''sun tribe" films as o
follows: "In July, 1956 Ko Nakahira said that the sun tribe had
been praised in Season of the Sun and criticized in Punishment Room,
However, I had merely sneered at them until [his] Crazed Fruit
made its appearance. Then I felt that in the sound of the girl's
skirt being ripped and the hum of the motorboat slashing through
the older brother, sensitive people could hear the wails of a seagull
heralding a new age in Japanese cinema. In May of the following
year, 1957, Yoshio Shirasaka's script for The Betrothed {JVagasugita
Haru) portrayed healthy, rational youths. He proved that a
superbly written script can transcend the ability of a director and
determine the style of the film itself. I was then aware that people
could no longer talk about Japanese film if they continued to
ignore this new wave. In July, 1957, Yasuzo Masumura's Kisses
used a freely revolving camera to film the young lovers riding
around on a motorcycle. I felt now that the tide of a new age could
no longer be ignored by anyone, and that a powerful irresistible 213
force had arrived in Japanese cinema."

2. THE REBEL AND THE CRIMINAL: OSHIMA

Nagisa Oshima was only twenty-seven when he made A Town of
Love and Hopefor Shochiku's Ofuna studios in 1959. Before the war
it was not unusual to be made director at an even younger age,
but after 1945 the length of apprenticeship of an assistant director
increased and the rules of seniority tightened so that it was ex
ceedingly rare to direct one's own film before the age of thirty.
In 1959, however, with the decline in popularity of Shochiku's
well-acknowledged forte, the "women's melodrama," the studio
 § decided to try to rejuvenate itself and took the unprecedented
^ step of appointing Oshima director over his older colleagues.
§ Shochiku's president then, Shiro Kido, took a personal hand in
w production, and it was he who selected Oshima's script. The Boy
S Who Sold His Pigeon^ later changed to A Town of Love and Hope,
^ over several others that appeared in a magazine produced by the
> studio's assistant directors. Kido saw that it had the makings of
§ a film in the Ofuna shomin geki genre of humanistic stories on the
w lives of average city dwellers. He took great pride in this genre
2 which he had shaped and guided, beginning with the films of
g Ozu and continuing to those ofKeisuke Kinoshita. Its strength lay
> in the fine vignettes of the people's sentiments, and its directors
were sympathetic to the laments of the weak and helpless but were
also aware of life's small joys. Although they tackled society's
contradictions with a sigh, most of the time they settled problems
through the bonds of family love.
A Town of Love and Hope is set in the factory town of Kawasaki,
south of Tokyo, where Oshima himself had lived. Due to poverty
the hero, a young teenager, practices a con game of sorts by
reselling a homing pigeon. After he sells it to the teenage daughter
of an executive of a large company, he befriends her, and upon
leaving school manages to apply for a job in her father's company
with the help of the girl and his teacher. He passes the company
entrance examination but is refused employment when his de
linquent act of selling a homing pigeon is discovered. Angered
that his innocent con game is considered such a crime, the boy
214 vows to continue it, aware now that he is rebelling against society
through it. The girl, however, is furious with him because she
thinks the boy has betrayed her. She buys the pigeon again, sets
it free, and has her brother shoot it with a rifle, thus symbolizing
the end of the short-lived friendship between a rich girl and a
poor boy.
In the original script another scene followed this in which the
teenagers agree not to let their friendship end on such a sour note,
and there was the brave, heart-warming message that together they
would build a more genuine society. However, Oshima's film
ended with the slain pigeon falling—an image which pierced the
viewer to the core. It was a compelling ending because the
viewer, who had been an objective, detached observer, was sud-
denly and forcefully confronted with the question: Where do you §
stand? ^
Shiro Kido had expected the film to pivot on the humanism of o
the rich girl and thus feature the theme of love and hope in the §
form of cooperation between labor and management. However, §
when confronted with the finished version he was reportedly ^
furious with Oshima, exclaiming, 'This film is saying that the rich S
and poor can never join hands," and he promptly labeled it a ^
leftist film. This was the first time Oshima found himself at odds ^
with his studio, and for six months he was suspended from film- S
making, the film only being released at a few out-of-the-way thea- O
ters in Tokyo.
The essence of Oshima can already be discerned in A Town of
Love and Hope, particularly in the hero's "double" reaction upon
being taken to task for his "delinquent" behavior. Previously,
he had been rather noncommittal about selling his homing
pigeon. Now, however, he not only flaunts it one last time but also
destroys his pigeon coop. If he apologized for his act, he would
have to admit that what he was forced into doing earlier was
wrong, something his self-respect would not permit. Nor would
it allow him to continue selling his pigeon, for then he would be
stuck with the juvenile delinquent label for good and his protest
would go unnoticed. In order to become a true rebel against
society, he angrily demolishes his means of delinquent behavior.
He rejects not only mending his ways but also the image of a
pitiable juvenile delinquent. By simply asserting, "I am myself,"
he brings up the issue ofthe autonomy of rebellion. 215
A good boy who mends his ways will probably have no strength
left to rebel against injustices, and a boy who protests by evoking
pity is merely playing on the sympathy of others. The boy in A
Town of Love and Hope does neither, and thus manifests his intense
self-respect and his resolve to dispel the sense of humiliation upon
being called a juvenile delinquent. In the image of this boy, es
pecially in the intensity of his self-esteem, lies an indisputable self-
portrait of Oshima himself.
In spite of the fact that A Town ofLove and Hope only played in
small theaters, the controversial contents gave Oshima a chance
to work on his second film. Cruel Story of Youth (1960), which
stirred up controversy in the mass media. Its resounding success
 § evenprompted other studios to follow Shochiku's lead and appoint
^ younger men as directors.
§ In contrast to the hero of A Town of Love and Hope^ the boy in
w Cruel Story of Youth actually becomes a delinquent since he uses
S his girlfriend to extort money from adults. Yet this film is clearly
^ distinguishable from the "sun tribe" and other juvenile delinquent
^ movies because the young couple are portrayed neither as sad
§ victims of society nor as daring rebels. In a society as evil as this
w one their rebellion merely takes the form of meaningless delin-
2 quency, which is what is "cruel" about their story. It is as if the
g promising rebel in A Town ofLove and Hope can only assert himself
> later through delinquent behavior.
In terms of accomplishment, Cruel Story of Youth is one of Oshi-
ma's best films, for its style is closely related to its theme of cruelty.
There is not one scene in the sunlight, and since almost everything
is shot under a leaden sky, something red, like flowing blood,
creates a striking impression when seen through a telescopic lens,
burning sensually amid all the gray. Moreover, long shots con
veying heavy oppressive images are interspersed with shots taken
by a roving, hand-held camera, thereby creating a jarring effect.
Both these original, contrapuntal cinematic techniques brilliantly
capture the tense relationship between a stagnant, bottled-up
social environment and a young couple who are beaten bloody
while looking for an escape hatch.
It is said that Oshima's frequent use of the hand-held camera in
this film is an imitation ofJean-Luc Godard's Breathless {A Bout de
216 1958). However, looking more closely, the psychologies
behind their usages are almost antithetical. Godard's hand-held
camera exhibits an artless ease that seems to be following the wind.
This is Godard's nihilism, bound to a method of fragmentation,
whereby camera shots which are expected to be uninterrupted are
willfully interrupted. Oshima's hand-held camera, on the other
hand, is a cinematic expression of the endless, painful writhing
of the young couple seeking a path to active resistance. Since he is
attempting to capture their silent, agonizing struggle against an
oppressive environment, he does not want to observe them ob
jectively, as a third person, through a mounted camera. Rather,
he is trying to apprehend their irritation through jittery camera
moves that echo their own moves, thus becoming one with them.
This is also the reason for his persistent use oflong, revolving shots g
with a hand-held camera. ^
Through Cruel Story of Youth Oshima became the darling of the g
age, and he followed it upwith The Sun^s Burial^ which also aroused ^
controversy in the mass media in 1960, prompting Shochiku to §
promote more young directors, like Masahiro Shinoda and Yoshi- w
shige Yoshida. One reason for Oshima's popularity was that he §
himself always acted as a member ofthe new generation, arguing ^
loquaciously for his contemporaries. Another reason lies in his ^
talent for capturing the spirit of the times. It was in 1960 that the cr>
Anpo struggleagainst ratification ofthe U.S.-Japan Security Treaty o in

took place, and Cruel Story of Youth came to symbolize the anger of
college students who were against military ties with the U.S., an
apparent violation of their postwar constitution. Although The
Sun's Burial and Cruel Story of Youth were not directly connected
with this political struggle, they ignited all the latent feelings to
ward it—the initial excitement and the despair and resentment
that came with defeat.
The Sun's Burial was shot on location in Kamagasaki, Osaka's
biggest slum, which Oshima presents as a place where men bare
their fangs and fight like wolves with their fellow beings. The
story unfolds like a scroll painting of hell, with the director
saying: Rip away the facade of peaceful, modern Japan and you
will find a dog-eat-dog philosophy. At the same time, he exhibits
a romantic yearning for a situation in which human beings can
express the violent side of their natures, exhaust it, and plunge
suddenly into an abyss of annihilation. 217
This is a film where only the strong survive, and even the strong
perish at the slightest show of weakness. The dead are then dis
posed of as though they are insects. If there is a message here, it is
probably simply that human beings have to be strong. Each scene
is filled with Oshima's assurance that 'T am strong," and it is
extremely hard to tell whether he is self-confident or self-
intoxicated.
The setting sun, photographed in red-orange tints, dominates
the screen, slowly sinking behind what seem to be the ruins and
black-market area of Kamagasaki in 1945. In that image of the
fat, setting sun I see Oshima's self-projection, as though he is
saying grandly and contentedly: 'T will shine to my utmost
 g over this scene of tragic sorrow." Braced by such an expansive
^ feeling ofself-esteem, or conceit, he may have felt a heroic urge to
g tackle more difficult situations, and the result was Night and Fog
in Japan, which he began working on soon after.
§ The idea for Night and Fog in Japan ran outside the currents
^ of Japanese commercial films and was only considered by Sho-
^ chiku because of the failure of their traditional films compared
§ with the unorthodox hits. Cruel Story of Youth and The Sun's Burial.
w Oshima, it seemed, could save the situation, especially since his
Q projected film focuses on a political debate between students who
W had participated in the Anpo struggle of 1960. Although the inten-
> sity of those days had been replaced by calm, studio heads
estimated that a film portraying this recent, vivid event would
still be controversial, and Oshima was given permission to go
ahead.
Night and Fog in Japan begins with the marriage of a couple
who became acquainted during the Anpo demonstrations a few
months earlier. At their reception a member of the Japanese Na
tional Student Organization {Z^ngakuren) gives a volatile speech
highlighting the internal dispute between the mainstream faction
of the student movement and the breakaway factions opposed to
its leadership. A heated debate ensues, and each person present
argues for his or her view on how the struggle should be waged
thereafter. The debate then takes an unexpected turn.
The groom, a newspaper reporter, had been an active member
of the student movement of 1952 against the Subversive Activities
22g Prevention Bill, a conservative measure aimed to stem the some
times violent leftist demonstrations of the day. (This bill was later
passed and is similar to the Anti-Riot Acts of America.) His former
comrades are also present at the wedding and, drawn into the
confrontation of the present-day students, they begin to revile the
internal tyranny and corruption of the student movement's Sta
linist leadership in the 1950s. An endless, violent exchange erupts
over common issues within the student movements of these two
generations.
The generation of university students who waged the Molotov
cocktail struggle in 1952 belongs to that of Oshima and his co-
scenarist, Toshiro Ishido. Their self-portraits are filled with
such emotion-packed, dialectical exchanges and the resentment
they express is so powerful that a screen parallel cannot be found §
anywhere else. ^
In his usual way Oshima used the journalistic and political q
approach rather than the artistic because he first mulled over what §
the most important statement he could make in 1960 would be §
and then produced an opportunity to deliver it. Most film-makers w
quietly brew one idea or theme and express it when they are sure of S
themselves. For Oshima, however, art is not born of meditation. ^
It is a product of intentional action in a state of tension, amid an ^
awareness of the full exertion of one's powers for the most urgent cS
issues. o
CO

This kind of approach might lead to immature propaganda

films; however, in Oshima's hands it creates an original work of
art. This is because while he is engrossed in making an urgent
political and social statement, he also reveals his own, innermost
sentiments. This was especially true of Night and Fog in Japan^
for here his passionate portrayal of the form the 1960 student
movement should take becomes a tale of his own youth as a
political activist, and thus he realizes both his concept and ap
proach in a state of high tension.
The political theories debated in Night and Fog in Japan may
have lost their relevance, but it is still one of the most beautiful
films about youth in the history of Japanese movies. In contrast
to the blue skies, sports activities, and sentimental love scenes
usually associated with the genre, youth is portrayed here in the
darkness of night, as a time of endless arguments and self-loathing
and humiliation, a season of unabashed, naive lust for power 219
and a burning sense of shame, and, above all, as a ceaseless
quest for absolute justice. Here, indeed, lies the true power and
beauty of youth.
Regardless of the beauty of Night and Fog in Japan, it was not a
financial success, and Shochiku withdrew it from circulation
before its first run was completed, so abruptly in fact that political
pressure cannot be ruled out. Moreover, the studio's refusal to
lend a print of it to research groups or individual theaters rein
forced this suspicion, leading to a furious quarrel between O-
shima and Shochiku.
At this time Oshima married the actress Akiko Koyama, and
a grand reception was held. There, in front of a large gathering,
 § which included several Shochiku heads and numerous journalists,
^ the groom and some of his friends delivered speech after speech
§ denouncing Shochiku. As a result, the rift was irreparable and
Oshima and a number of his colleagues formed their own inde-
§ pendent production company, which was called Sozosha (Creation
Company).
^ Oshima's first independent production was the superb but
§ overly conceptual The Catch [Shiiku, 1961), based on the novel by
w Kenzaburo Oe. Since author, scriptwriter, and director were
G all at odds as to what the novel was about, the film was irritating
w and confused. The following year Oshima was invited to
> Toei studios, where he made Shiro Tokisada from Amakusa, and
three years later, with Shochiku financing, he came out with
Pleasures of the Flesh. While the former had an urgent statement,
it lacked emotion and fresh sentiment, and the latter simply had
no message. Despite these failures, in the interim Oshima made
some excellent TV documentaries like The Forgotten Imperial
Army [Wasurerareta Kogun, 1963), considered one of Japan's best,
and A Tombstone to Youth {Seishun no Ishibumi, 1964). Then, in
1966, with Violence at Noon, Oshima emerged with another feature
film that was a masterpiece.
Based on a short story by Taijun Takeda (and scripted by
Tsutomu Tamura), Violence at Noon concerns a brutal rapist-
murderer and the complex male-female relations among all those
who had known him. It is Oshima's first incisive probe into the
problems after youth. Ever since A Town of Love and Hope, he
220 had shown stories of youth usually revolving around crime. Even
in the political Night and Fog in Japan, the confinement of a youth
who is accused of being a "spy" became an important issue. Yet
all those crimes could be forgiven on account of the youthfulness
of the perpetrators, or overlooked because of poverty, or even
considered the proof of youthful purity in contrast to an evil
society. In 1966, however, Oshima was unable to repeat his cri
ticism of society from the privileged standpoint of youth, and
could no longer judge others with the premise that he alone was
innocent. The main character in Violence at Noon is a real adult
criminal, one who cannot be forgiven. He may be abnormal, or
a pervert, but he is nevertheless a result of the sick societies that
adults create.
 The film is set in a mountain village in the Shinshu (north- O
central Honshu) region ofJapan just after World War 11, where ^
several young people attempt but fail to run a collective farm (an ^
ideal society). As they are from different social classes, eventually ^
they go their separate ways. The collective farm episode is treated ^
as a recollection, and there is a touchingly pathetic glow to it.
Intercut are scenes depicting the state of confusion of these grown §
men and women, who have not progressed at all since their youth. H
The internal disintegration of these adults is portrayed with a w
poignancy that is both ominous and compelling, intimidating ^
those who try to live at peace with themselves. o

3. EVANESCENCE AND HUMOR: SUZUKI

In the late 1950s and the 1960s Seijun Suzuki was a director
for Nikkatsu studios, dutifully churning out the modern action
films they specialized in at that time. However, in the 1960s his
farcical treatments of these popular films both gave him a large
following and incurred the displeasure of his company, which
fired him for making 'incomprehensible" movies. As a result
Suzuki became a counterculture hero among antiestablishment
youths, who would stay up late to see revivals of his masterpieces
at all-night showings in the Tokyo area.
Since Suzuki's best films were farces, he can be called a gesa-
kushuy a humorist whose roots date back to the popular comical
literature of the Edo period, for example, Shank^s Mare [Hiza-
kurige) by Ikku Jippensha (1765-1831). There have been other 221
film-makers in this tradition who scorned the phony seriousness
of the respectable, and together with "tendency" and nihilistic
film directors, they formed an antiorthodox group. This was
really the main current of early Japanese cinema, for the film
world was not considered respectable until the late 1930s, and
within the rigidity of Japanese culture, still bound by an aca
demic attitude, it formed an influential counterculture force.
Many were discontent with the lowly status accorded to film
and actively sought to raise it to the level of literature or paint
ing, and gradually Kenji Mizoguchi, Yasujiro Ozu, and Akira
Kurosawa were added to the list of representatives of Japanese
culture. These film artists tended to stress moralistic themes and
 § valued a serious and rigorous approach to cinematic technique.
^ On the other hand, Suzuki and those who intentionally stressed
§ the countercultural aspect used antimoralistic and antiestablish-
co ment themes, and in technique cherished a light touch, aiming
§ for an unconventional style.
^ Even serious directors such as Mansaku Itami and Sadao
> Yamanaka participated in the gesaku, or humorous side of the
§ counterculture, by ridiculing Bushido, thereby embarking on new
W ground in the period drama genre. In fact, there was so much
2 jest and playful parody in some ofYamanaka's films that a prewar
w critic claimed they lacked any intellectual thought. This judgment
> depends, of course, on the definition ofthought." In Sazen Tange
and the Pot Worth a Million Ryo (Tange Sazen—Hyakuman'ryo no
Tsubo^ 1935) Yamanaka turns a Japanese superman into a lovable,
unemployed man in Shitamachi, the old district of Tokyo. Here,
as in his tragic masterpiece Humanity and Paper Balloons [Ninjo
Kami-fusen, 1937), there is a rejection of heroism for a philosophy
in which strength is juxtaposed with gentleness. This was not an
inherited artistic tradition but a consistent endeavor to shatter
old stereotypes, and surely such an original creation is worthy
of the appelation "thought."
Yet since Yamanaka turned into a serious artist, it would be
difficult to name him as the prewar predecessor of a light hu
morist like Seijun Suzuki. A better choice would be Masahiro
Makino, who also specialized in popular entertainment pieces—
usually swordfighting, or chambara, films, for while Makino was
222 exactly a humorist, he, like Suzuki, injected a playful mood
into an action genre. During Makino's long career he created a
number of excellent films, such as The Street of Masterless Samurai^
Genealogy of Women [Onna Keizu, 1942), A Horde of Drunken Knights
(1951), Jirocho—The Record of Three Provinces series {Jirocho San-
goku-shi, 1953-54), and An Account of the Chivalrous Commoners
of Japan series [Nihon Kyokaku-den, 1964-65), interspersed with
pieces of rubbish. Still, his best films consistently feature the
dreams of the weak and the illusions of the defeated, like those
of humorists, since they were meant for the common people.
Thus, Makino gave them a hero, the superman, and under his
warm, sensitive direction, the viewer saw that these supermen
who paraded their heroism were actually enjoying their shows of
strength themselves. Theywere play-acting, and when this mood §
ofjest suddenly surfaces, we also recognize that it is nothing but a ^
dream of the weak. ^
Although the phrase "nothing but a dream" is apt to mean §
nothing of value, the nuances in Makino's best films are better §
described "as fleeting and beautiful as a dream," and "as rambling ^
as a dream." In the course of life we taste the bitter dregs ofregret, S
and in order to dispel them and induce a blissfully ignorant sense ^
of relief Makino gives us a hallucination of violence. His best ^
films are the dreams of weak people, and while they may appear co
foolish to those who follow the strong—or who are under the il- o
lusion they themselves can become strong—to human beings who
recognize their own weakness they are a joy to watch.
In the 1960s Seijun Suzuki took Masahiro Makino's dreamlike
quality and made it even more evanescent. He then counterbal
anced it with the farcical humor of a true gesakusha and introduced
original cinematic techniques. This development was largely due
to a unique brand of romanticism that he shared with his war-time
generation of university students with a literary bent, many of
whom, like Suzuki, were drafted during the large student mobi
lization in 1943 and sent to the front.
The generation preceding Suzuki's had received a Marxist
baptism in their youth, and their artistic or literary expression
tended to be based on ideas of social justice. We see them in the
film world in the likes of Tadashi Imai and Satsuo Yamamoto, and
Akira Kurosawa's and Keisuke Kinoshita's sympathy for the un
derdog is founded on the same premise. On the other hand, the 223
postwar generation after Suzuki had been exposed to various
schools of thought and had witnessed their shortcomings, such as
Marxism degenerating into Stalinism. Consequently, self-asser
tion for them took precedence over social justice and, like Nagisa
Oshima, they soon progressed toward opposition to oppression
in any shape or form.
The war-time generation had only militarism, and literary
youths such as Suzuki came to hate its senseless, coarse nature.
Their only recourse was to read the Japanese classics, since most
European and American works of art and literature were con
demned as products of the enemy. In such an environment their
thinking inevitably became more abstract, as it was better to
 g take the philosophical view that life was based on fate rather than
^ attempt to interpret reality. Their soldiering experiences and
§ Japan's subsequent defeat reinforced this view, as it made more
sense to disregard reality than participate in it.
5 Suzuki himself summed up this philosophy in an interview
^ which appeared in the second issue of the magazine, Cinema '69,
^ "Shall I call it 'image?' Anyway, I think that what remains in
§ our memory is not 'construction' but 'destruction.' Making things
w is not what counts. The power that destroys them is. For example,
Q when Chusonji, the famous Buddhist temple grounds at Hiraizumi,
w was still standing, travelers would simply pass it by. I think they
> only began to notice it was there after it was in ruins. What is
standing now isn't really there. It is just something reflected in
our eyes. When it is demolished, the consciousness that it is, or
was, there first begins to form. Thus, even in terms of civilization
and culture, the power of destruction is the stronger. Consequent
ly, I don't like films such as Sun over the Kurobe Gorge [about a
dam]. I just don't like construction. I look down on it, actually.
Everyone says that it is better to be asleep. That way you can do
what you want. That blissful Japan really lives. Power exists,
too. But we don't have to put on a red helmet [like student ac
tivists] to resist it. I'm saying it's better to do nothing at all. That
way the ones to be worried will be those in power."
When Suzuki advocates the influence on culture of things de
stroyed by using the ruins at Hiraizumi as an example, the literary
student of Japanese classics emerges because these grounds were
224 built during the Heian period (794-1185). The influence of the
famous thinker Hideo Kobayashi is also present. Kobayashi's
concept of evanescence [mujo-kan) was the most influential ide
ology during World War H. By stressing the mutability of all
things, he made young, intelligent men accept death and destruc
tion on the battlefield.
For Hideo Kobayashi, Japan's defeat was merely a continu
ation of mutability, and he thought people should forget the
horrors and sufferings and simply adjust to the present. For those
like Suzuki, though, this would mean a betrayal of their grim
youth. They had believed in the doctrine of mutability and had
actually experienced it poised between life and death on the
battlefield; when they returned from the war they felt that
others should know it, too, in particular, its aspect of annihilation. O
Furthermore, when people began to talk of an age of construction <
following the previous one ofdestruction, Suzuki and his genera- g
tion probably felt betrayed once more. Their feelings can be lik- g
ened to film directors of the immediate postwar generation—Kei S
Kumai, Kiriro Urayama, and Masahiro Shinoda—who had firmly g
believed in postwar democracy only to be betrayed by reactionary §
movements like the red purge and the Self-Defense Force. H
Besides destruction, humor is also an important ingredient of W
mutability for Suzuki, as is evident in his answer (in Cinema ^69,
no. 2) to the question: Why do the murder scenes in your films §
appear to be comical? ^
"When you go to war you get that feeling. It is inexcusable to
say so, but it is humorous. For example, when someone got
wounded at sea, he was rescued by an Imperial Navy ship from
which a, rope was thrown down. He tied it around his body, and
they pulled him up. But since the rope swung back and forth, he
kept banging into the sideof the ship. The men that got pulled up
had lumps all over their bodies, and they looked so funny.
"Once there were about ten dead men among those rescued,
and all naval officers from ensign up were ordered to assemble.
When we got to the deck, there was a bugler there and the
corpses were placed below. Two sailors would come and get a
hold of each one at the head and feet. The bugle would sound and
they would throw the body into the water. Each time we heard
the sound of the bugle, it was followed by that of the body plunk
ingin thewater. The tata-tataofthebugle and the plunking sound 225
didn't go together at all. It was really funny."
For outside observers such as Hideo Kobayashi, the road to
annihilation was beautiful as long as it was touched by a tragic
or pathetic glow. However, for Seijun Suzuki, who had lived amid
annihilation, it was necessary to view oneself objectively, even
to the point where mutability appeared pathetic and humorous
at the same time. Furthermore, it was even necessary to discover
a certain masochistic pleasure in the abnormal nature of an ex
perience that shook one's core, and for this reason Suzuki's best
films take on the semblance of a masochistic cartoon.
Suzuki's masochistic attitude was probably reinforced by his
postwar job as a director in the commercial film world. Before his
o own style emerged with Wild Youth {Taju no SeishuUy 1963), he
g made twenty-seven B pictures, which were routine job assign-
w ments. If he had made his directorial debut at Shochiku, where he
Iz; , . . , , ^
H served his apprenticeship as an assistant director, he probably
g would have been turning out "women's melodramas" just as as-
^ siduously. Since he did not like "construction" themes, he was
^ fortunate that the studio's specialty was modern action films, but
g he would have tackled anything. He was able to accept the assign-
w ments because he saw humor in situations where the characters
Q were faced with death. However, as in the case with com-
S pliance in the face of death on the battlefield, quietly grinding
^ out films dictated by studio policy was by no means an easy,
pleasurable task. In Cinema ^69y no. 2, he had the following to
say about it.
"Actually, making movies was painful work, as I often said to
my wife. I had already wanted to quit four or five years before.
I told her I hated this foolish, painful process. She told me I
shouldn't say such a thing . . . that if I talked that way, it would
come true. And it eventually did. [This alludes to his unfair
dismissal from Nikkatsu in 1968.] For me, it was a relief. I felt that
way from the very start."
Despite Suzuki's distaste for film-making, he eventually devel
oped an original style that is well illustrated in the following
scenes from the yakuza movie, Kanto Wanderer (Kanto Mushukuy
1963).
The hero (Akira Kobayashi), a bouncer at a gambling den,
226 chivalrous code of ninkyodo and, outof a sense ofhon
or,.is forced to tackle two roughnecks who intend to pick a fight
in the den. When the bare-chested hero suddenly swishes his sword
and the two yakuza fall with a thud, everyone flees and all the
shoji (paper-covered sliding doors) of the large room fall away in a
wafting motion. The surrounding corridor is then revealed,
bathed in brilliant red light. The scene changes in the next shot,
and the screen is filled with snow. In the midst, shaded by a
Japanese paper umbrella, the hero is striding forth to fight his
enemies single-handedly.
The above scenes were so unexpectedly theatrical that they
made the other scenes—which had by no means been subdued —
credible, thus heightening these two splendid poses of the hero.
While the viewers were startled and absorbed by them, they could O
not help laughing at themselves for having been taken in by such ^
abrupt histrionics. g
Berthold Brecht also made use of abrupt histrionics. During a ^
realistic play, he would suddenly insert expository lines piecemeal w
through songs, make use of masks, have the actors make machine- ^
like movements, and so on. He himself called these devices ^
alienation effects (verfremdung effekt), which would restrain au- H
dience empathy, thus maintaining objectivity throughout. w
At first glance the abrupt histrionics in Suzuki's films from ^
Kanto Wanderer on seemed to be a further elaboration of Brecht's p
alienation effects. However, whereas Brecht used them to reject in

empathy and negate catharsis, Suzuki employed them to enforce

the pathetic beauty of the actor's pose to induce empathy.
The resulting surge of emotions did not erupt into a tragic ca
tharsis, though. While these theatrical poses were rich in pathos,
they were nothing more than beautiful fragments, as fleeting as
the sparks of fireworks in the night sky. Moreover, these poses
were comical^ not so much for satirical reasons as for relief,
because for Suzuki humor serves as the only salvation for those
who know mutability, the transience of all things.
Suzuki was obsessed with the idea that all human endeavors
are foolish; yet if one affirms this foolishness, it becomes all the
more interesting. Thus, he sought meaning in the humor of
mutability, and in his films humor replaced catharsis.
In terms of the humor of evanescence, Suzuki's most remark
able film is Tokyo Drifter {Tokyo Nagaremono, 1966), for its flam- 227
boyant use of color, and its comical, eccentric tempo practically
turned it into a pop art display. It was based on a popular songof
the same title, and its absurd but amusing story developed along
the lines of a potboiler. The hero, a modern yakuza played by
Tetsuya Watari, is sent wandering in the provinces because of a
dispute within his gang in Tokyo. Whenever he strikes a dramatic
pose—drawing blood during a fight, or standing still in a deserted
snowy field, or suddenly setting off on a journey—the title song
comes on the sound track. The rhythm with which these poses
occur is not consistent; they resemble flashes of transient beauty
and humor upon the screen of a revolving lantern.
Suzuki's perception of mutability is best demonstrated in
g Violence Elegy [Kenka Ereji, 1966), a memorable masterpiece in the
^ tradition of the gesakusha. The story is set in the provincial areas
^ of Okayama and Aizu in the 1930s, during the rise ofmilitarism.
In the beginning the hero, Kiroku Nanbu, a somewhat delinquent
g teenager played by Hideki Takahashi, is lodging at a relative's
^ house in Okayama and going to high school there. The daughter
^ of the house, a Christian, is also a student, and he has a crush on
§ her. His platonic love differs considerably from that of more
m literary youths, for Kiroku is seized with sexual desire. He can
Q only find release through fights with other teenagers like himself,
W or by daydreaming of the sublime love a knight offers a noble-
> woman. Once quieted, his sexual urge soon reappears, so he is
continually fighting and becomes very good at it.
As Kiroku is a pure-hearted youth, his pride won't allow him
to be satisfied with mere teenage gang fights, and so he even
assumes a rebellious attitude toward his school. After he makes
fun of the military instructor during a school drill practice, he is
forced to leave Okayama. He goes to live with relatives in Aizu
and continues to rebel, but since the school principal there likes
youths with spirit, his rebellion does not end as an open dispute.
Instead, he assembles his classmates and fights students from a
neighboring school.
Although he enjoys such battles, he also realizes they are child
ish. One day in a coffee shop he exchanges glances with a middle-
aged man with a piercing look. While wondering who he is,
news is announced of the famous February 26 Incident of 1936,
228 attempted coup d'etat by one faction of the military. Kiroku
later discovers that the older man is Ikki Kita, a right-wing thinker
implicated in the incident and eventually executed. The film ends
with Kiroku setting off for Tokyo to get into a bigger fight, no
doubt the Sino-Japanese War, which began the next year (1937).
This somber, ironical ending to a film full of wild, entertaining
fights, fantasy, and humor, was added by Seijun Suzuki himself
since it was not in the original novel nor in the script by Kaneto
Shindo. One especially remembers the scenes depicting the young
hero's sexual frustrations. In one of them, he is alone at home
and has an erection; he gleefully alleviates his distress by pound
ing on the keys of his platonic love's piano with his penis. In
another, he is seized with the burning pangs of sexual anguish.
dashes outside, beats up some nearby toughs, and then returns §
to his room immediately, feeling refreshed in body and mind. Yet ^
such exceedingly funny scenes are all tied together in the short, o
serious one in which Ikki Kita appeared, and this casts an eerie g
sense of uneasiness and a certain air of romanticism to the film. §
The above effect could be attributed to the personage of Ikki
Kita himself, for he had fanned the flames of revolutionary ardor §
in several young military officers with his doctrine of national ^
socialism. However, since Suzuki detested the constructive, in- ^
terest in ideology would not have been his reason for inserting the ^
scene. He probably saw in Kita a pathetic symbol for human o
beings rushing headlong to their deaths in the coming world war.
The many humorous episodes of the hero himself, before he
meets Kita, probably presuppose a distant vision of annihilation,
and are thereby beautiful. Here, as if by chance, we get a fleeting
glimpse of the serious side of Seijun Suzuki.

4. SEX AND VIOLENCE

In the 1960s the subject most often treated in Japanese film was
violence, with sex a close second. Nikkatsu's violent action thrillers
and Toei's yakuza movies were the dominating genres, and the
prolific "pink" movies—low-budget, soft-core pornography—
eventually surpassed the yearly output of the five major film
studios. With the exception of the Soviet Union and the People's
Republic of China, the increase of this phenomenon was world
wide and even encompassed socialist nations of Eastern Europe. 229
Two reasons cited for this trend are the lifting of censorship and a
competitive commercialism, although commercialism can be
discounted since artistic films also projected sex and violence.
The trend is evident in films made by Japan's leading directors
of the 1960s—Shohei Imamura, Nagisa Oshima, Susumu Hani,
Masahiro Shinoda, Yoshishige Yoshida, Seijun Suzuki, Yasuzo
Masumura, and Koji Wakamatsu. It is also evident in the films of
foremost European and American directors—Godard, Bergman,
Fellini, Antonioni, Pasolini, Richardson, Schlesinger, Bunuel,
Penn, and Nichols. All of them undoubtedly have their own reasons
for following this course, as will be evident from a brief exami
nation of the views of Japanese directors on sex.
 g For Imamura, sex is the act of a child seeking to nestle in the
^ security ofthe womb. It symbolizes the lost sense ofcommunalism
§ that existed in the villages of old. In Intentions ofMurder^ the out-
^ wardly, tyrannical husband creeps into his wife's bed at night
5 crying, ''Mommy," in a childishly beseeching voice. The only
^ spiritual source of support for the prostitute in The Insect Woman
^ is the memory of the maternal love she had for her dead idiot
§ father. In The Profound Desire ofthe Gods, a cloistered island village
w is spiritually controlled by a political leader who takes a miko,
G or temple priestess, as his mistress, and sex is the essential bond
W holding the community together.
> In the work of Oshima, sex takes on a more aggressive aspect.
The young couple in Cruel Story of Touth strive to free themselves
from society's restrictions, and the first liberty they reach for is
sexual. In Pleasures of the Flesh an unhappy, dissatisfied youth lays
hands on a large sum of money and begins to sleep with all sorts of
women. Violence at Noon concerns a degenerate who only obtains
sexual satisfaction through rape, and is a symbolic probe of the
violent, irrational results of sexual repression. This problem is
treated more concretely in A Treatise on Japanese Bawdy Song,
about the wild sexual fantasies of frustrated college students, and
in Death byHanging, an analysis of the sex crime of a Korean youth
born and living in Japan.
Oshima's treatment of sex led him to differ from leftist directors
of the 1950s because, unlike his predecessors, he regarded psy
chological repression to be as important an issue as economic
230 poverty. In contrast to their portrayal of the normal, healthy
masses, Oshima's later films on repression presented characters
who were spiritually sick or psychologically perverse. His main
theme then became an attempt to liberate the self from this
deformity through sudden violent acts, and in such situations sex
served as the most vivid symbol of liberation.
In Hani's films, sex is a key to development, for they are gen
erally stories of how a youth breaks out of the small hard shell
of the ego to form deeper relationships with others. In his greatest
work. The Inferno of First Love [Hatsukoi Jigoku-hen, 1968), sex is
treated as the adventure of a young soul, and sexual development
is equated with human development, that is, maturation. Early in
the film the boy's masturbation is portrayed in a particularly
vivid manner. Then the director follows each microscopic step g
in his psychological process toward an attempt at sexual union ^
with a girl. g
Yoshida continually ponders whether it is only through sex 2
that human beings can cast aside their respective egos and S
effect a union, and ifso, what they discard thereby. In a superior ^
early film, Akizu Hot Springs, the heroine gives her body to an §
unfortunate youth, but as time passes she is so revolted by his H
philistine character that she commits suicide. In his later films the W
heroine, usually played by his wife Mariko Okada, continues to
languish while searching for sexual fulfillment. She is usually a cn
o
c/a
proud woman, and the more pride she has the less she can bear
the thought of having sexual relations with a worthless man and
surrendering to him psychologically. At the same time, however,
she needs men to liberate herself from the insecurity and lone
liness of ,a strong ego. Through such a woman Yoshida relates
the dilemma of individual autonomy and the need for social
bonds, and for him sex becomes the best symbol. In his master
piece Eros Plus Massacre, the search for individual autonomy
through free love ultimately fails because the people concerned
inevitably try to monopolize one another.
For Masumura, sex is the very lust for life itself. In The Red
Angel [Akai Tenshi, 1966), set in China during World War II, the
army nurse (Ayako Wakao) is swept into sexual relations with
Japanese soldiers who are on the brink of death. From its con
tent, this fine film might be confused with pornography; how
ever, through the fierceness of its expression, sex becomes the sym- 231
bol of the will to live even in the direst circumstances. A young
man who has lost both arms in battle pleads with the nurse to
masturbate him, and she obliges. The field doctor, despairing at
the lack of facilities, takes drugs and becomes impotent, and the
nurse helps him recover by giving him her body. In the end her
efforts are to no avail: the armless soldier commits suicide and
the doctor has himself sent to the front to be slain by the enemy.
Her zest for life is unable to save them because they are trapped
within a social code that stresses glory on the battlefield and re
gards weakness with shame.
Shinoda's view that sex is the purest of pleasures is best il
lustrated in With Beauty and Sorrow [Utsukushisa to Kanashimi to.
 g 1965) and Double Suicide {Shinju Ten no Amijima^ 1969). In these
^ films he portrays men and women who, by their own acts, create
^ a situation in which the only way they can enjoy sexual pleasure is
to pay for it with their lives. His lovers rush headlong to their
§ fate. Resolved to die, they ignore all social convention and are
^ thus able to enter the realm of ecstasy. This is pure aestheticism,
^ where the beautiful is valued more than life itself, but in Shinoda's
§ films fulfillment is not complete. It seems that he puts greater
w emphasis on the determination to pursue pleasure than its attain-
2 ment.
w In the work of Wakamatsu, "the determination to pursue plea-
> sure" has none of Shinoda's aestheticism, and it is sadism pure
and simple. In The Embryo Hunts in Secret (Taiji ga Mitsuryo Suru
Tokiy 1966) and Violated Women in White [Okasareta Byakui, 1967),
Wakamatsu does nothing more than create a world where men
cruelly abuse women, half killing them in the process, and their
anguished faces deny that pure pleasure is possible in this world.
Wakamatsu also shows us that the more one engages in sadism,
the more it turns into something resembling a fairy tale, whose
allure turns into antipathy toward reality.
In the films of Tetsuji Takechi sexual relations are usually an
allegory for the relation between the rulers and the ruled in poli
tics. In Black Snow {Kuroi Tuki^ 1965) and A Tale of Postwar Cruelty
[Sengo Z^nkoku Monogatari^ 1968), the powerless position of Japan
vis-a-vis America, and of the Japanese populace in relation to its
rulers is represented by the outraged Japanese women and the G.I.
232 rapists.
This sexual wave in films of the 1960s is the vehicle for many
messages, depending on the director, but the question remains
why all these directors used sex to express their message.
Despite thematic differences, the above directors were all trying
to grasp the nature of feelings that lie deep in the human psyche.
Moreover, fundamental human problems, such as the relationship
between rulers and ruled, the power-wielder and slave, harmony
and confrontation, freedom and loneliness, can all be seen within
the sexual relationship between a man and a woman. These
problems are usually defined in a social or political context and
treated accordingly. However, it then becomes extremely dif
ficult to investigate them without using existing morality, and
the investigator is hampered by hackneyed notions of social g
justice, traditional or modern, and cannot consider the raw pas- ^
sions and sentiments of the individuals involved. On the other g
hand, in the context of the complicated sexual relations between ^
a man and a woman, it becomes possible to objectively investi- §
gate the will to dominate and submissiveness, as well as the lone- ^
liness attendant on the thirst for freedom, and to portray such §
problems realistically. H
While it is difficult for an individual to grasp entities such as W
society and government, sex is a sensual experience. Accordingly, ^
in contrast to social and political problems which are usually con- o
sidered intellectually and lead to consent or indignation, sexual
problems are confronted at a gut level and bring about a struggle
between what one thinks and what one physically demands.
Problems that activate such an internal struggle cannot be solved
by the precept of ''social justice," for they boil down to the
question of what one is really searching for in life. This question
is made tangible by treating it from the emotional angle in the
dimension of sexual demands. In this manner, both the film's
creator and the viewer can feel the struggle within themselves and
can begin to grope for an answer in the twilight zone between
this sexual dimension and intellectual abstractions such as free
dom, the will to obtain power, the consensus of the community,
and so forth.
In the late 1950s and 1960s the only effective films seemed to
be those that fulfilled such gropings. Directors who appealed solely
to social justice may have achieved some understanding of that 233
precept, but could not move their audiences. These new direc
tors, on the other hand, perceived the necessity of starting from
the dimension of sexual demands and developing their individual
themes accordingly.
While films with sex activated an internal struggle between
what an individual thinks and what his body demands, films
with violence anticipated the struggles in the 1960s in modern
societies, struggles to express the passionate needs of diverse
groups. In the past, social, or at least group, solidarity was stressed
in Japanese cinema, and this was particularly evident during the
war. Depictions of sexual love were completely absent and those of
romantic and conjugal love exceedingly rare. In their place.
 § Japanese audiences were subjected to the camaraderie among
^ soldiers, the self-efFacing fraternity between neighbors, family
§ love, love of one's birthplace, and, of course, love of the fatherland.
H
At a time when the Japanese nation was exerting an enormous
amount of violence abroad, "spiritual healthiness" and social
> harmony were demanded by the government through the cinema.
> A similar situation has probably existed in other war-time na-
w
C/3
tions. The first notable exception was the U.S. during the Vietnam
^ War, for then the mass media, television in particular, gave con-
2 siderable coverage to the violent Black Power and antiwar move-
g ments that sprang up within the country itself. Television may
> have also influenced these movements, since it transmitted
coverage of the Vietnam War to U.S. citizens.
This war highlighted the fact that members of developed so
cieties, such as the U.S. and Japan, are not simply satisfied with
local news and domestic affairs in the age of mass media. News of
a war within a confined area of a distant country is transmitted
almost immediately and can instigate a domestic, ideological
debate. Even within one's own country, struggles concerning
specific problems in certain geographical regions can become
nationwide matters. Consequently, citizens soon know that con
frontations are being conducted with a naked show of force, and
they can no longer believe that their society is based on a kind of
"brotherly love." The desires and intentions of diverse groups
are often communicated through power plays in which violence
is not an abnormal effect but part of the main thrust. Given such
234 a social climate the inevitable escalation of violence in Japanese
films, beginning in the early 1960s, cannotsimply be due to "post
war decadence." This escalation also anticipated the Japanese
consciousness, for the public did not realize the violent turn of
events in their society until 1967, when student activists began
hurling rocks and brandishing wooden poles at riot police.
Japanese film-makers, sensitive to the inevitability of violence
in contemporary society, produced modern action thrillers and
yakuza movies to replace period dramas in the theater circuit.
The period drama was once the only genre where violence was
used as a mode of expression. However, even though the swordplay
could be termed violent, the stories, depicting a society with a
rigid hierarchy, were like fairy tales to modern, mobile Japanese.
Furthermore, no matter how much violence occurs in a period §
drama, disrupting effects are minimized and the social order is ^
never in danger of disintegration. On the contrary, when a noble q
samurai cuts down a villain, violence is employed to support §
the status quo. S
In modern action and yakuzd films, although the gangs are co
ruled by their own hierarchy, the plot develops on the basis of S
its gradual disintegration. Despite the underworld theme, the mod- ^
ern viewer feels closer to this type of society than to feudal society. ^
The attraction of modern films with violence, therefore, rests on (D
. *
the realistic portrayal of the relations between diverse groups, o
Indeed, the significance in these films seems to be how an indi
vidual can act with grace amid conflicting power groups.
Another explanation for the proliferation of sex and violence
movies lies in the major change in audience composition between
the 1950s and 1960s, although this also reflects the sensitivity of
film-makers to changing conditions.
In the 1950s the inherent social value of film lay in its rare
ability to transcend differences in age, sex, social class, and
education, giving its audience a common emotional experience.
Even though Kurosawa's IkirUy Kinoshita's Twenty-four EyeSy and
Imai's Darkness at Noon leaned toward the tastes of progressive
intellectuals and women, they still managed to appeal to the
emotions of the public at large. /AzVw's morbid theme—a main
character fated to die of stomach cancer in six months—pulled the
heart strings of those who hoped to steer through the dark, dismal
postwar days by clutching at their old work ethic. Twenty-four Eyes 235
seemed to crystallize the feelings of pacifism in the Japanese
audience, which included housewives and intellectuals, the bour
geoisie and the proletariat. Darkness at Noon was based on Hiroshi
Masaki's book The Judge {Saibankan), in which the judicial system
rather than the accused parties was indicted in a famous murder
case. The book was a best seller, but the author's plea only
became a public issue after the movie, which succeeded in persuad
ing the common people of the well-founded criticism by a group
of intellectuals.
In the 1950s the cinema was still the most influential medium
in Japanese society compared to literary works, which had select
readers, and popular songs, ballads {naniwa bushi)^ and other
 g performing arts, which would not accept contemporary themes.
^ In the 1960s, however, with the popularity of television, house-
§ wives stopped going to movies and ''women's melodrama" (sen-
timental love stories) and the home drama genres were dealt a
g death blow. Even "human dramas" like Twenty-four Eyes rapidly
^ lost appeal. Spurred by interest in foreign language study, espe-
^ cially English, and the dream of traveling to the U.S. and Europe,
§ even the young unmarried women stopped going to movies and
w the only major film-going group became young bachelors working
2 in Tokyo.
w A change in housing patterns following a heavy influx of young
> workers and college students from the country, which began in the
1950s and skyrocketed in the 1960s, meant that entertainment
areas of large cities (and in Tokyo these are situated near every
major train station) became packed with wooden housing units
for young bachelors, bartenders, cabaret hostesses, and so on.
When these people got married, they usually moved to the
suburbs, and since that meant a two-hour daily commute, it was
extremely difficult for them to keep up the habit of going to the
movies. Thus, the movie theater audience came to consist large
ly of young bachelors who loved erotic and violent films, whose
continued success in turn kept older men and women from movie
theaters.
Consequently, the Japanese audience in the 1960s was divided
into two main groups: television viewers and cinema viewers.
The former were usually small families flattered by television
230 dramas that lauded home and hearth. For the most part they were
satisfied with life and liked "things as they are." Cinema viewers,
on the other hand, preferred sex and violence, since they were all
young bachelors dissatisfied with life and society. In movie thea
ters, where real women could not be found, erotic and violent
stimuli escalated and aggressive and self-destructive impulses
ran amok. Although unmarried women who doted on foreign
movies were a marginal factor, upon marriage the vast majority
of them would probably be content with television home dramas.
Naturally, television, despite its appeal to the contented, had
its share of incisive documentaries on shameful realities about
"things as they are"; conversely, despite a basically discontented
audience, some films (which were often financed by.big business)
affirmed 'things as they are" in the form of praise for Japan's g
postwar prosperity. Still, regardless of these exceptions, television ^
created a world of hypocritical goodness, and the cinema, one of ^
hypocritical evil. These different approaches to reality are ac- ^
curate gauges of audience reaction and can be considered two §
distinct cultures which are independent and do not interact. The ^
cinema of the 1950s—a grand culture embracing people of ^
different ages, sex, social class, or education—had been split into g
a "tube culture" and a "screen culture." w
This split corresponds to the two-tiered structure of the Japanese cS
population whereby television appeals to the fixed populations o
of town and country, and the cinema to migrant workers and stu
dents from regional areas. Just as the double structure of the
economy, which pits large enterprises against smaller ones, does
not necessarily appear as a clear-cut case of class conflict, the two
populations do not seem to be divided by social class or status.
However, judging from their preferred media, their psychological
make-ups are obviously different. In contrast to television's happy
families, modern action diXiAyakuza movies praise the lone wolves,
with emotions wavering between loneliness and camaraderie.
Despite the close ties that bind members of a gang, these loners
give the impression that such social bonds are only an illusion
and cast them aside in favor of individual action.
This kind of hero appealed to the most alienated sector in the
two-tiered population structure. In the 1960s the cinema had
become their preserve, almost being a "mini" medium, since
television had the larger audience. Although some may regret 237
the loss of the cinema's capacity to transcend social classes, this
new state of affairs made it possible for cinema to become the
spokesman for alienated minorities.
While democracy is based on the principle of majority rule
and happiness for the greatest number, it became increasingly
evident in the 1960s that this principle was used to stifle the
demands of minorities. Therefore, the defiance of those conscious
of themselves as an alienated minority takes on greater significance,
and only the cinema could articulate their existence. Just who
"they" are is insignificant. For example, a junior high school
graduate can be considered a minority vis-a-vis those with ad
vanced education. On the other hand, college students could feel
 g that they are alienated from the rest ofsociety. Whatever thecase,
^ the standard, uniform labels of workers and masses no longer
^ apply, and it is the task of cinema today to persevere with the
expression of the needs of such minorities.

^ 5. CINEMATIC GUERRILLAS
§ In the late 1960s a number of film-makers drew attention to the
w existence of alienated minorities by independently producing and
Q showing documentaries of their struggles. The most famous was
w Shinsuke Ogawa, who became an independent after refusing to
> make sponsored PR films. His first effort was Sea of Youth [Seinen
no Umiy 1965), a short documentary about some part-time students
who began a protest movement against retrogressive reforms
by the Ministry of Education. Capital was collected by the
students themselves, and the object of the production was achieved
when Ogawa took the film on tour and showed it to part-time stu
dent groups nationwide.
Ogawa became widely known as a result of his next documen
tary, The Oppressed Students {Ansatsu no Mori^ 1967), about the long,
bitter struggle of a small number of students who managed to
occupy school buildings at Takasaki College of Economics. Ogawa
later showed it at universities throughout the nation, and this
record of the actual fighting as well as the passion of the students
left a strong impression on viewers. In retrospect, it seems to have
been a preview of the university riots throughout Japan in the late
1960s.
238
Ogawa also dug in with the farmers of Sanrizuka in Chiba
Prefecture against the expropriation of their land for the new
airport. He made Summer in Sanrizuka: The Front Line for the
Liberation of Japan [Nihon Kaiho Sensen—Sanrizuka no Natsu, 1968),
and over the next five years made five more feature-length docu
mentaries while living with the farmers.
Through these independent productions and showings, Ogawa
and others broke with precedent, for news in the past was made by
mass communication networks and distributed by them to the
general public. Since it cost money to come out with a big news
paper or to make films, people did not question this state of af
fairs. Only small newspapers and clublike little magazines—low-
cost operations—could form a ''mini communication network." O
However, if they dealt with news of a probing nature—too hot <
for the mass communication networks to handle—issue was g
taken with them and they could only be published through the g
strenuous efforts of a few people. w
In the 1960s, however, through Ogawa and others it became
possible to form a "mini communication network" through cine- g
ma, and since films could be shown to large audiences, this was a H
distinct improvement over the limited communication of a small
magazine. Furthermore, ordinary citizens could become journal-
CD
ists by bringing their own cameras to a demonstration and re O
a»

cording it on film. Then they could show it privately. As such,

making one's own news became the ideal and goal of the inde
pendent documentary film movement, and this capacity would
only increase with further development in film techniques—
unless the movement was suppressed for political reasons.
This film movement continued in the 1970s, and the greatest
contributions made then were by Noriaki Tsuchimoto. Ever since
he came out with Minamata: The Victims and Their World {Mina-
mata—Kanja-san to Sono Sekai^ 1971), he has continued to make fea
ture-length documentaries in the fishing village of Minamata in
Kyushu about the victims of mercury poisoning there—those
who have died and those who have suffered severe ailments—and
their struggle to receive compensation from the government and
the industry which caused the water pollution. Whenever difficult
problems arose during this distressful struggle, Tsuchimoto and his
crew would make a new film as a means of solving them. Once 239
when they learned that Minamata disease had broken out in a
Canadian Indian reservation, they took their films to Canada to
show to the Indians there.
 X

V,

Until 1960 the Japanese had thought of themselves as part of

poverty-ridden Asia, so it was a shock when they found out that
Japan had become one of the world's most affluent nations in the
early 1970s. Since the early 1900sJapan had been more prosper
ous than other Asian countries, but the Japanese fear of being
swallowed up by the imperialist powers of the time made them
intent on catching up with or even surpassing the wealthy na
tions of Europe and the U.S. The belief in Japan's poverty was
reinforced by the hard times after Japan's defeat in World War
II, with the result that Japanese could not believe they could ever
become as affluent as Europe or America.
This consciousness was apparent in most serious masterpieces,
which frequently portrayed people striving in vain to escape from
poverty. Some examples are Mizoguchi's Osaka Elegy and Ozu's O
The Only Son of 1936, Kurosawa's One Wonderful Sunday of 1947, <1
and Oshima's A Town ofLove and Hope of 1959. g
By the 1970s, however, Japanese no longer considered them- g
selves poor, and according to a survey taken in 1980, ninety per- w
cent stated that they thought they belonged to the middle class.
While these views are only subjective, it is evident that even g
though poverty existed, its scope was greatly diminished. Ac- H
cordingly, film-makers could not continue portraying the theme W
of escape from poverty. (A few leftists did by showing destitute cr>
workers waging a class struggle against the capitalists, but their o
C/2
works lacked reality and force.)
One of the ways this social change was manifested was in love
stories, which from around 1910 through the 1950s usually de
picted romance between the rich and the poor. The 1938 com
mercial success of The Compassionate Buddha Tree, where the rich
son and his poor girlfriend cannot marry due to opposition from
his family, was eclipsed by the 1953 melodrama What Is Your
Name? about a poor girl who marriesinto a rich family but cannot
forget her love for a poor boy she met during a Tokyo air raid.
She eventually leaves her husband and goes through a series of
hardships until she is reunited with the poor boy. This poor girl-
rich boy theme in the love melodrama genre was even popular
with artistic directors like Mizoguchi {The Story of the Last Chry
santhemums, 1939) and Yoshimura {Warm Current, 1939). By the
1960s, however, largely due to the decline of the old bourgeoisie
after 1945, this theme was suddenly behind the times, and Kino- 241
shita's The Bitter SpiritfImmortal Love {Eien no Hito, 1961), set in
the 1930s, was its last masterpiece.
As the Japanese rose in affluence, other popular genres were
also discarded, such as the mother films {haha mono)^ which had
been big box-office hits throughout the 1950s. Ozu's The Only Son
was an artistic work on this theme, in which a mother suffers
hardships for her child's success. The poverty-ridden mother raises
her son with high hopes, only to be disappointed in him as an
adult. Kinoshita's A Japanese Tragedy was another, in which the
mother finds that her son and daughter interpret modernization
and postwar democracy to mean that they are no longer under
any obligation to take care of her in her old age. Popular melo-
g dramas about mothers, on the other hand, often featured a poor
^ woman who cannot marry a rich man but has an illegitimate
g child by him. Thereupon, either she undergoes hardships raising
the child or the child is raised by the man's wife, and on reaching
g adulthood he is torn between the mother who gave birth to him
^ and the mother who raised him. Whatever the case, these films
^ served to praise the nobility of poverty-ridden mothers.
§ As a rule the 1950s produced hardly any films with a happy
w mother in the leading role. The mothers were played by middle-
2 aged and older actresses, and the more miserable they looked the
w nobler they appeared. Even in Ozu's postwar films about rela-
> tively happy homes, it was the daughter who would be given
the main role, and the story ended when she left home to marry.
At any rate, as the number of poor mothers decreased, so did the
popularity of mother films. In the television family dramas of the
1970s she reemerged as a beautiful fifty- or sixty-year-old heroine
who enjoys home life. She is shown in one beautiful, expensive
kimono after another, chatting so cheerfully that it disconcerts her
mild-mannered husband and sons. Housewives who had pre
viously cried when they saw miserable mothers on the screen now
accepted these cheerful and beautiful middle-aged women as
perfectly natural.
Another genre associated with past poverty, yakuza films, also
headed for a decline in the 1970s. The hero of these films was
usually a man raised in a poor environment, who then becomes an
outlaw. In the end he would fight a just battle with the strong and
242 evil for the sake of the poor and weak. Such a hero was only a
myth, but he was loved by the Japanese, who were mostly poor
and preferred to believe that they were honest while the rich were
liars. It may seem paradoxical yakuza movies were at their
zenith in the relatively affluent 1960s. The rapid social changes
then perhaps brought on a sense of insecurity, which the myth of
^^yakuza justice" served to allay. By around 1973, however, they
suddenly lost their appeal, as if the viewer suddenly realized that
yakuza movies were a fake, and film companies specializing in
them turned out a few realistic versions of yakuza world while
waiting for a new fad to appear. The best of these was Kinji
Fukasaku's Battles without Honor and Humanity series {Jingi Naki
Tatakai, 1973-76), about cruel killings within one gang. Some
were successful, but audiences soon tired of them by the end of 0
the 1970s. <
By then, as we have seen, several important genres that had g
•

previously been big box-office attractions lost their popularity, ^

and the only series that survived the 1970s was It^s Tough To Be a ^
Man (Otoko wa Tsuraiyo). With two sure hits every year, director ^
Yoji Yamada had the freedom to make individual masterpieces §
like The Family [Kazoku, 1970), Home {Kokyo^ 1972), The Yellow H
Handkerchieves of Happiness [Kofuku no Kiiroi Hankachi, 1978), and w
The Call of Distant Mountains {Harukanaru Yama no Yobigoe, 1980).
Yamada has so far made twenty or so films in the Ifs Tough To Be o
a Man series, and none have failed at the box office despite the
same characters appearing in each and the lack of variation in
the stories.
The famous comedian Kiyoshi Atsumi plays the role of the
main character, Tora-san. He is a tekiya, an itinerant merchant
who sells inexpensive merchandise at festivals and is a persuasive
talker. Tora-san's relatives are all waiting for the day he finds a
decent job, for although tekiya were common in the past, with
Japan's affluence and the availability of more lucrative jobs, they
have virtually disappeared. Tora-san is therefore a lonely figure
who does not intend to give up his trade, and in the highly regulated
and bureaucratized modern society he is probably the last free
spirit left. At times when he can no longer bear the loneliness of
traveling, he returns to his home in the Tokyo area to see his
aunt and uncle and his younger sister and brother-in-law. There
he always falls in love with a beauty, and after suffering a broken 243
heart, he sets out on his travels again.
The appeal of this series lies in his free spirit and in Tora-san's
home, Katsushika Shibamata, which used to be a small town
on the outskirts of Tokyo but is now incorporated into the bur
geoning metropolis. It is like a neighborhood in the Japan of the
past, where neighbors help each other out and freely enter and
leave each other's homes as though they are all members of the
same family. This way of life has been steadily disappearing in
Japan's modernized cities, but is miraculously preserved in this
film version of Katsushika Shibamata. It is this idealization of the
old neighborhood that captures the heart of modern Japanese
audiences.
 g This series allowed Yamada to become the only director in the
^ 1970s to maintain a steady stream of successes and a reputation
w for artistic and social responsibility. A socialist, Yamada's main
^ theme in all his works is not the class struggle but the maintaining
g of warm, human relations within families and communities in
^ danger of collapse in an industrialized society.
^ The extinction of many film genres in the 1970s also altered the
§ old dichotomy between the tateyaku and nimaime roles. The male
w lead in The Yellow Handkerchieves of Happiness and The Call of Dis-
2 taut Mountains was Ken Takakura, a tateyaku-tyY>t actor who had
w won fame through movies of the 1960s. As he came slash-
> ing his way into the villains' den for the sake of the good but weak,
he was greeted with applause by college student audiences,
aroused by the campus struggles in 1967 and 1968. In these later
films by Yamada, however, Takakura takes the role of a man who
has just served out his prison sentence for murder. He becomes a
wanderer, in search of a peaceful life. In both films Takakura's
shyness in confessing his love for a woman he meets, which due
to tateyaku tradition he does awkwardly, still breaks the taboo
that a noble man does not love a woman. Yamada's sound judg
ment even succeeded in bringing some women viewers back to
movie theaters.
The mmflim^-type of leading man also remained successful in the
1970s, albeit so changed that he can only be recognized after a
brief diversion into the development of artistic porno films. As
mentioned earlier, Japanese movie audiences decreased heavily
244 1960s, from a total attendance of1.2 billion in 1960 to 0.2
billion in 1980. Consequently, major companies like Toei, Toho,
and Shochiku, which had been producing about a hundred movies
annually, curtailed their output, some even going bankrupt,
such as Shin Toho in 1961 and Daiei in 1971. Nikkatsu, which
was close to bankruptcy in 1971, managed to survive by specializ
ing in soft-core porno films, called ''roman'^ porno, as against the
cheaper ''pink" films, which had been flourishing since 1960.
Although film critics ignored Nikkatsu's roman porno at first, they
later recognized the artistic value of some after Tatsumi Kuma-
shiro came out with Sayuri Ichijo—Moist Desire {Ichijo Sayuri—
Nureta Tokujo^ 1972). In all Kumashiro's different types of films,
men and women sacrifice everything for the sake of sensual
pleasure. Even prostitutes, a frequent subject of his, are portrayed O
as lovable human beings because of their love of pleasure. In <
The Four-and-a-Half-Mat Room in Back—Soft, Secret Skin {Tojo- g
han Fusuma no Urabari—Shinobi Hada, Kumashiro's main g
character is a youth who is raised in a brothel and goes about w
gratifying the sexual needs of the prostitutes. Since he is so likable, ^
he is an interesting variation of the nampa-ty^t ofjuvenile delin- g
quent—the skirt-chaser. H
The opposite of the nampa was the koha, or ruffian, and this w
dichotomy of social deviancy was strictly maintained until the CO
influence of postwar Americanism. It is thus a demonstration of o
C/1
the tenacity of feudalistic attitudes toward sex in Japan. The koha
delinquent, like the tateyaku and the samurai, regards sex as a
necessary evil and ignores women, preferring to fight morning,
noon, and night. He is often also a rightist. The nampa, like the
nimaime and the townspeople, believes love to be the greatest
joy in life and is constantly in search of the forbidden pleasures
of love and sex. He looks down on the koha and is more liberal
in his politics.
Kumashiro's lovable youth who gives sexual satisfaction to
prostitutes is probably the first presentation of the nampa-ty^t of
juvenile delinquent as an ideal. He is the symbol of the old
townspeople's culture, a culture expressed in nimaime perfor
mances in Kabuki plays about lovers' suicides—an extreme mani
festation of sensual pleasure—and in erotic ukiyo-e paintings of the
feudal age. It continues to be a vibrant tradition and is the ex
treme opposite of samurai culture. 245
Another expression of this tradition can be found in the male
lead of Oshima's The Realm of the Senses [Ai no Koriida, 1976),
a film backed by French interests and based on an actual in
cident that occurred in 1936. The sexual excesses of Kichizo and
his sweetheart, Sada Abe, culminate in her strangling him to
death at the height of sexual ecstasy and castrating him after
ward. Contemporary Japanese were interested in this incident
because of Sada Abe, a woman with an amazing appetite for sex,
and her murdered lover elicited only pity as a comical sac
rifice. Oshima, however, portrays Kichizo as a man who did not
mind being killed if he could sexually excite and please the wom
an he loved. In this way, he represents a development of the
 g nimaime tradition, and through him Oshima's film becomes a
^ beautiful tragedy rather than a simple tale ofsexual indulgence.
^ Oshima's film was made possible by an important develop-
^ ment in the 1970s, the rise of independent producers. Until 1960,
g the market was almost monopolized by three to six major com-
panies, and while this state of affairs stabilized production, it was
^ also extremely difficult to produce films that did not please studio
§ heads. This monopoly collapsed withthe decline ofthe industry in
w the 1970s. Although film production in general became more dif-
Q ficult, film-makers with originality could produce and distribute,
w at their own risk, different kinds of movies. Three directors who
> did this were Imamura, Seijun Suzuki, and Kurosawa.
Imamura's Revenge Isfor Us [Fukushu Suru wa Ware ni Ari, 1979),
about the life of a clever con man who commits a series of brutal
murders, is an examination of his innermost feelings. Suzuki's
^igeunerweisen (Tsuigoineruwaizeny 1980) begins with a recording
of violinist Pablo de Sarasate playing his own composition ("The
Gypsy Melody" of the title), and then delves into the bizarre
lives of five men and women whose existence takes on a ghostlike
quality. As the director himself says, "It is a film where living
people are actually dead and the dead are actually alive." Kuro
sawa's major period drama, Kagemusha {Kagemushay 1980), is the
story of a double for a famous general who died in 1573.
These three masterpieces all have the common theme of protag
onists who do not know who they really are, or whose outward
appearance and inner subjectivity are so different that they have
illusions about which is their true self. In previous Japanese mov
246
ies, directors only portrayed people who knew exactly who they
were. Many of them had no doubts at all about the feudalistic
moral system, for example, loyalty toward one's superiors, and
only a few revolted against it. There were those who strove
against poverty to make a happy home, and the defeated who
failed in these endeavors. They all knew what they were seeking,
or what they lacked. At the end of the 1970s they are replaced by
characters with identity problems, who cannot apprehend what
it is they are seeking.
These characters are an honest reflection of the situation con
fronting the modernJapanese. The greater part of their tradition,
in particular loyalty toward one's superiors, was annihilated by
defeat in World War 11. The hundred-year-old goal of catching g
up with the West so as not to become a colony is now achieved, ^
but the values and ideals associated with pursuing that goal are ^
lost, or uncertain. American-style democracy lost a lot of credi- ^
bility due to the Vietnam War andthe abnormal increase in crime §
there in the 1970s. For leftists, both the Soviet Union and the
People's Republic of China became fallen idols in the 1960s and §
1970s. The advanced countries of Western Europe, from which H
Japan traditionally imported new ideas, new learning, and art w
forms, no longer exert the same influence. In short, since the 53
Japanese are at a loss for suitable models, they must discover o
themselves by themselves. The present Japanese cinema has
reached the position where people at least recognize that they
do not know who they are, and we should watch closely for what
they will create next.

247
APPENDIX I

A Chronology

1896
Edison's Kinetoscope is imported.
1897
The Lumi^re brothers' Cinematographe and Edison's Vitascope are
imported. Films are shown in Japan with a narrator (henshi), a system
that continues until talkies replace silent movies.
1899
The first Japanese films are shown. Performances by Kabuki actors
Danjuro Ichikawa and Kikugoro Onoe in Maple Viewing are recorded
on film, and this is the oldest extant Japanese film. It was shown to
the public four years later.
1900
With the Boxer Rebellion in north China, the first newsreels are made.
1902
The American movie Robinson Crusoe is imported, marking the first
public showing ofa feature-length film in Japan. 24g
1903
The first permanent movie theater is built in Tokyo.
1904
Newsreels of the Russo-Japanese War prove very popular.
1905
Japanese film producers venture on extensive film tours of Southeast
Asia, with the result that the word nippon (Japan) comes to mean
"movies" in Thailand.
1906
The first "color" movie, with color painted onto the film, is shown to
the public.
1907
Osaka's first permanent movie theater is built.
 § 1908
^ A Kyoto Kabuki manager, Shozo Makino, begins making period
W drama movies with Kabuki actors. He nurtures so many superstars
H in that genre that he is dubbed its father,
a 1909
Matsunosuke Onoe, Japan's first movie star, appearing in over 1,000
^ films, makes his debut in Shozo Makino's Tadanobu Goban (Goban
^ Tadanobu). Onoe came from Kabuki and specialized in playing heroic
^ warrior roles.
o
g The French detective film ^igomar the Eelskin scores a big hit. Some
^ Japanese youths imitate its criminal behavior, leading to the begin-
> nings of a form of censorship.
1912
The first major film company, Nikkatsu, is established, and the Jap
anese film industry begins mass production.
1913
Several Japanese crime movies modeled on ^igomar the Eelskin are
made.
1914
The Japanese film Katusha, based on Tolstoy's Resurrection^ draws large
audiences. The heroine is played by the onnagata Teijiro Tachibana,
since film followed the theater in having men play all female roles.
Teinosuke Kinugasa, the renowned director, begins training as an
onnagata with a Shimpa troupe.
1915
American action serials gain popularity.
1916
2^q The Italian historical drama Cabiria is a big hit. Intellectuals still prefer
foreign to Japanese films, which attract the common people.
1918
America's "Bluebird Movies,"sentimental lovestories centering around
farm life, win over Japanese audiences, as do Charlie Chaplin's films.
Sentimental contemporaryJapanese dramas (Shimpa) are alsopopular.
Norimasa Kaeriyama starts a reform movement with two experimental
films. The Glow of Life {Sei no Kagayaki) and Maid of the Deep Mountains
(Miyama no Otome), both of which he produced, wrote, and directed.
One of the movement's objectives is to replace onnagata with actresses,
another is to reduce the role of the benshi by inserting subtitles. The
more famous benshi would insist that studios make movies with long
shots so they could talk as much as they wanted, and this often an
gered directors who were trying to improve Japanese film technique
by increasing the tempo. Until then, as many as four benshi would de- ^
liver the lines in one movie. As benshi are more popular than movie g
stars, they cannot be dismissed so easily, and the practice ofone nar- g
rator per film is agreed on. The two movies by Kaeriyama encourage ^
young progressive film-makers and fans, but as films they are mereimi- ^
tations of Western models.
1919
Griffith's Intolerance and Chaplin's A Dog's Life are hits. During World
War I, Italian, Swedish, and Danish films ceased to be imported,
American films taking their place. Japanese film is still immature and
scorned by Japanese intellectuals, but youths such as Ozu, who were
deeply impressed by American movies, come to lead a movement to
improve Japanese cinema.
1920
Amateur Club (Amachua Kurabu), styled after American comedies, is pro
duced with Junichiro Tanizaki writing the script and former Holly
wood actor Thomas Kurihara directing. Japan's second major film
company, Shochiku, begins production. It uses actresses instead of
onnagata, and introduces new techniques under the guidance of former
Hollywood cameraman Henry Kotani. Nikkatsu also begins using
actresses, and onnagata vanish completely from the film world in a
few years.
1921
Director Kaoru Osanai, a leading figure in Japanese theater who intro
duced modern European drama, forms a film research center, which
produces Japan's first artistic experimental work. Souls on the Road
{Rojo no Reikon). Although immature and imitative, two of the young
men involved—Minoru Murata and Yasujiro Shimazu—soon became
leading film directors and set a standard of artistic quality. 25f
1923
Young period drama actors such as Tsumasaburo Bando appear in
film and are very popular. In contrast to Matsunosuke Onoe's formal
ized swordfighting style, Bando's is violent and fast. The characters
portrayed by Bando are not Kabuki heroes but nihilistic outlaws who
rebel against traditional society. These new heroes are well received
among the young and remain popular until the early 1930s, when
such films are suppressed. Sumiko Kurishima, who plays the leading
roles in Shochiku's sentimental dramas, is the first actress to attain star
status.

1924
Minoru Murata directs Seisaku's Wife, a tragic antiwar love story set
in a farming village.
 § 1925
^ Censorship by the Ministry ofthe Interior becomes standardized, with
W the objectives of maintaining the dignity of the imperial family and the
H authority of the military, ofexcluding leftist thought, and of cutting out
g kissing scenes and other "erotica." Even foreign news films on scandals
among European royalty are prohibited. In the late 1920s leftist movies
^ become popular but they are frequently cut so much they are unintelli-
I gible.
g 1926
^ Teinosuke Kinugasa directs one of his masterpieces, ACrazy Page, an
g avant-garde film about the delusions of the insane in a mental hospital.
^ While not a commercial success, its artistic level, comparable to foreign
> films, is encouraging. Swordfighting films {chambara) on the struggle
between the followers of the emperor and the shogunal supporters
just before the Meiji Restoration become popular and form the most
important genre of period drama until 1945. With the emperor's sup
porters shown as the "good guys," these films encouraged ultranation-
alism in the form of emperor worship. The Woman Who Touched the
Legs {Ashi ni Sawatta Onna), a successful, slightly erotic light comedy
modeled on American films, is made by Yutaka Abe, a former Holly
wood actor.
1927
Abe's brand of American modernism becomes increasingly popular
with the release of The Five Women Around Him [Kare o Meguru Go-nin
no Onna), All three parts of Daisuke Ito's period drama, A Diary of
Chuji's Travels, become hits, as young movie-goers support its outlaw
hero (Denjiro Okochi) in his fight against the authorities.
1928

252 lead,continues to make successful period dramas with Okochi as his main
among them the Sazen Tange series about a one-eyed, one-
armed nihilistic super samurai. Despite this, period dramas generally
endorse feudalistic thought. Pro Kino (standing for the Japan Prole
tarian Motion Picture League) gains support from progressive intellec
tuals, students, and film-makers. Founded by leftist film critics such as
Akira Iwasaki and Genju Sasa, it records May Day demonstrations and
strikes with 16 mm cameras. One screening at Yomiuri Auditorium in
Tokyo draws such a crowd that many are turned away, resulting
in an impromptu illegal demonstration.
1929
At the Shochiku studio in Kamata on the outskirts of Tokyo, under
studio head Shiro Kido, directors such as Ozu, Shimazu, and Gosho
create the new filmgenre of "everyday realism" [shomingeki), portraying
the lives of common people with humor and pathos. Shochiku is dubbed >
"The Actress's Kingdom" because of the number of actresses, such g
as Kinuyo Tanaka, it fostered. Mizoguchi's leftist film Metropolitan g
Symphony {Tokai Kokyogaku), reputedly a masterpiece, is only shown ^
publicly after being severely cut by the censors.
1930
Shigeyoshi Suzuki's leftist film What Made Her Do It? {Nani ga Kanojo
0 so Saseta ka) is a hit. The leftist movement is now at its peak and since
such films make money, the studios encourage their production.
1931
Gosho's The Neighbor's Wife and Mine {Madamu to Nyobo), with a jazz
musical score, is Japan's first successful talkie. Political suppression puts
an end to Pro Kino and the popularity of leftist films wanes, while a
fad for militaristic movies starts.
1932
The first golden age ofJapanese cinema begins. Ozu directs / Was Born
But. . . , depicting the servility of the petit bourgeoisie in times of
hardship. Such films on the lives of average city-dwellers gain pop
ularity.
1933
Ozu directs Passing Fancy, a masterpiece about the lives of the com
mon people.
1934
Shimazu directs Our Neighbor Miss Tae {Tonarino Tae-chan), a master
piece of the "home drama" genre.
1935
The third major film company, Toho (formerly PCL) starts operation.
One of its big stars of slapstick and musical comedies is Ken'ichi Eno-
moto (Enoken).
253
1936
Hiroshi Shimizu directs Mr. Thank Tou {Arigato-san), the first of a series
of lyrical masterpieces shot in impromptu fashion entirely on location.
Mizoguchi's Osaka Elegy and Sisters of the Gion establish realism in
Japanese film. Mansaku Itami directs Kakita Akanishi{Akanishi Kakita),
a masterly intellectual comedy. Sadao Yamanaka directs Soshun
Kochiyama, a period drama rich in emotions. Ozu makes The Only Son,
an example of Japanese "neo-realism." Sotoji Kimura directs Older
Brother, Younger Sister (Ani Imoto), a powerful neo-realistic drama about
the love-hate relationship of a working-class brother and sister. Under
the Bureau of Propaganda many beautiful and poetic documentaries
are directed by Kozo Akutagawa in Manchuria, trying to justify its
colonization. The finest is Forbidden Jehol {Hikyo Nekka).
 g 1937
^ With the beginning of the Sino-Japanese War, the government de-
W mands the cooperation of the film industry and bans films depicting
H the military comically or the cruelty of battle realistically, or portray-
g ing "decadent" pleasure-seeking. These demands are unopposed as
leftist and liberal antiwar elements have already been suppressed.
^ Yamanaka makes Humanity and Paper Balloons, a pessimistic masterpiece
^ showing a samurai as a pathetic, servile man who is out ofwork.
W 1938
^ War movies are made in abundance. The first famous one is Tomota-
g ka Tasaka's Five Scouts, which wins a prizeat the Venice Film Festival.
^ Kajiro Yamamoto directs the semidocumentary Composition Class {Tsu-
> zurikata Kyoshitsu), a depiction of everyday life of the lower classes,
based on the compositions of a poor girl in primary school. Hisatora
Kumagai directs his period drama masterpiece The Abe Clan, examin
ing the samurai spirit. Tasaka makes A Pebble by the Wayside {Robo no
Ishi), about a poor youth fighting adversity. As the Sino-Japanese
War threatens to continue for some time, the government intensifies
its demands for more patriotic and nationalistic films to counter the
individualistic and liberal influence of American and European movies.
1939
The Motion Picture Law is passed, placing the film industry com
pletely under government control until the end of the war in 1945. All
scripts have to be passed by censors, and actors and directors have to
take an examination for a license to work. Mikio Naruse directs The
Whole Family Works, a low-key realistic treatment of the hardships of
the working class. Hiroshi Shimizu makes Four Seasons of Children {Ko-
domo no Shiki), the best lyrical film about country children. Kozaburo
Yoshimura's Warm Current is favorably received and students especially
254
are moved by his modern. Westernized version of romantic love. In
Earth, Tomu Uchida realistically depicts the lives of the poorest farm
ers. Mizoguchi directs The Story of the Last Chrysanthemums, the tragedy
of a woman in the feudalistic world of Kabuki.
1940
Fumio Kamei directs the documentary Fighting Soldiers, superficially
in support of the war efTort. When the censors note its antiwar ideas,
Toho withdraws it and Kamei is arrested the following year. Shiro
Toyoda directs Spring on Lepers' Island {Kojima no Haru), about a woman
doctor's devotion to her leper patients.
1941
With the start of the Pacific War, all American and European (except
German) films are banned. Kajiro Yamamoto makes Horse {Uma),
a beautiful, poetic portrayal of country life, part ofit directed by his ^
assistant, Akira Kurosawa. Yamamoto had arranged for the Imperial ^
Army to order his studio to make it, and in return he provides a pa- g
triotic movie, in which the colt raised by a poor farm girl becomes an ^
army horse in the end.
1942
In The War at Seafrom Hawaii to Malaya^ a '^National Policy Film,"
Yamamoto makes heroes of the pilots who attacked Pearl Harbor.
1943
Kurosawa directs his first film, Sanshiro Sugata. Hiroshi Inagaki directs
The Life of Matsu the Untamed^ one of the most humanistic war-time
films. A 1958 remake of it later wins the Venice Film Festival's Grand
Prix.
1944
The subject matter of all films is the war effort.
1945
Defeat. Lack of equipment results in the film industry being very
inactive. Motion picture companies are placed under the Occupation
forces, which prohibit films with themes of revenge or antidemocratic
principles.
1946
As swordfighting scenes are banned, the superstars of period dramas
begin brandishing pistols instead of swords in movies modeled on
American gangster movies. Kissing scenes, encouraged by the Occu
pation forces, are very popular. Fumio Kamei's A Japanese Tragedy
{Nihon no Higeki), a documentary criticizing the imperial system, is
confiscated. But the Occupation censors' most urgent concern lies in
preventing the public from knowing the extent of the damage of the
atomic bomb explosions. Labor disputes occur in every motion picture
255
company. At Toho the union is strong enough to obtain the right to
participate in film planning and almost to have the studios under its
own management. Thus only a few powerful works were made there,
such as Kurosawa's somewhat leftist film JVo Regretsfor Our Touth, and
production of B-grade entertainment movies virtually ceases. Some at
Toho opposed the union and broke away to form a new company called
Shin Toho.
1947
Toho continues under the control of the labor union and works of "demo
cratic enlightenment" are produced, for example, Kinugasa's Actress.
1948
Toho's management tries to dismiss a number of union members, a
strike ensues, and union members occupy the studios. To disperse them.
Q both the police and the U.S. Army are mobilized, the latterusing tanks
^ and airplanes, and the union is defeated and its leaders driven from
W Toho. The U.S. motive may have been that the Toho union was one
H of the most powerful bases of the Japanese Communist Party, which
g had developed rapidly with the end of the war. The cold war era
was beginning, and it was probably a necessary show of suppressing
^ unions influenced by the Communist Party. The strike and its result led
^ the public to believe the U.S. Army would forcibly crush a leftist
^ movement. During this year, the harsh realities of postwar Japan
^ are depicted in the following: Kurosawa's Drunken Angel; Mizoguchi's
g Women of the Might; Shimizu's Children of the Beehive {Hachi no Su no
^ Kodomotachi); and Ozu's A Hen in the Wind. Inagaki directs Children
> Hand-in-Hand {Te o Tsunagu Kora), a masterpiece on the education of
the mentally retarded.
1949
Ozu directs Late Spring, a masterpiece on the peaceful life of a middle-
class family that makes audiences feel for the first time that peace has
finally come to Japan.
1950
Tadashi Imai directs Until the Day We Meet Again, the first successful
antiwar movie. Melodramas showing maternal love and sacrifice
{haha mono) become popular. Kurosawa directs Rashomon, an innovative
period drama with sexual and psychological themes and avant-garde
techniques. The Korean War begins. SCAP headquarters orders the
major motion picture companies to expel all communists and commu
nist sympathizers. Film-makers such as Kamei, Imai, Gosho, Satsuo
Yamamoto lose their jobs in this red purge.
1951
Film-makers dismissed in the Toho labor dispute and the red purge
form independent production companies and begin making movies
again. The first is Imai's And Tet WeLive, which was strongly influenced
by De Sica's Bicycle Thieves. Rashomon wins the Grand Prix at the
Venice Film Festival, the first time a Japanese film becomes known in
ternationally. Mikio Naruse directs Repast(Meshi), a masterpiece on the
home life of a clerk and his wife. With Japanese Fuji color film, Kei-
suke Kinoshita makes Carmen Comes Home {Karumen Kokyo ni Kaeru),
Japan's first feature-length color movie.
1952
The second golden age of Japanese cinema begins with the release of
masterpieces such as Mizoguchi's The Life of Oharu, Kurosawa's Ikiru,
and Naruse's Mother. The Occupation ends, and the theme of revenge
is immediately restored to period drama, as well as plenty of sword-
fighting scenes. Most representative ofthis is Masahiro Makino's Jiro- ^
cho: The Record of Three Provinces series of nine films made from 1952 g
to 1954. In Children of the Atom Bomb, Kaneto Shindo treats a pre- g
viously taboo subject. ^
1953
Imai is invited to make a film at a major studio; the resultant antiwar
movie about high school girls who die in the battle for Okinawa, The
Tower of Lilies, is a big hit. Mizoguchi's Ugetsu and Ozu's Tokyo Story
are made. The love melodrama What Is Tour Name? establishes a new
box-office record. In Before Dawn {Toake mae) Yoshimura presents the
Meiji Restoration from the viewpoint of the common people, with the
hero going insane when he realizes the new government will not neces
sarily bring happiness to the masses.
1954
Kinoshita's The Garden of Women depicts the struggle against the feudal
structure of a woman's college; he follows it with his great success.
Twenty-four Eyes, a sentimental pacifist film. Kurosawa makes Seven
Samurai, one of the greatest period dramas. Yoshimura's masterpiece
Cape Ashizuri {Ashizuri Misaki) portrays youths in the gloomy prewar
period. Naruse directs Late Chrysanthemum {Bangiku), a masterful drama
on the psychology of middle-aged women. Mizoguchi makes Sansho the
Bailiff, based on a medieval Japanese legend. The monster film God
zilla {Gojira) is a big hit and becomes a series.
1955
Two masterpieces about a woman's steadfast love for a worthless man
—Naruse's Floating Clouds and Toyoda's Marital Relations [MeotoZ^nzai)
—are criticized by progressive critics as being "retrogressive." Tomu
Uchida directs A Bloody Spear at Mt. Fuji, a fine period drama with
lyricism, humor, and violent emotion. Kinoshita directs Tou Were Like
a Wild Chrysanthemum [Nogiku no Gotoki Kimi Nariki), a beautiful and
nostalgic love story. In Record of a Living Being, Kurosawa looks at the
possibility of nuclear war. Gosho directs Growing Up (Take-kurabe),
a nostalgic film about Meiji Japan.
1956
Kon Ichikawa directs Harp of Burma {Biruma no Tategoto), an antiwar
film with a religious theme. In Darkness at Noon Imai takes up a mur
der trial in progress, attacks the court for its judgment, and both
the trial and the film become social issues. The defendants are even
tually found not guilty. Thereafter criticism of the courts, previously
taboo, was pursued. A series of successful movies is made on the de
linquent behavior of the "sun tribe," based on the sensational works
of the young novelist Shintaro Ishihara. Although some public opinion
 g against these films is strong, their popularity continues and they be-
^ come an established genre, replacing love melodramas, which had
H been the most popular genre previously.
H
C/a
1957
w The most profitable movies are the period dramas made by Toei, a
^ company that turned swordfighting scenes into spectaculars with such
^ box-office success thatToei becomes ona par with themajor film studios.
^ Kurosawa makes Throne ofBlood, a period drama based on Macbeth
W that includes Noh modes of expression. Miyoji leki directs Stepbrothers,
a criticism of the feudalistic nature of a military household in prewar
g Japan. Yuzo Kawashima's Sun Legend ofthe Shogunate's Last Days {Baku-
W matsu Taiyo Den) adds a new depth to traditional humor.
> 1958
Yasuzo Masumura directs Giants and Toys, a satirical comedy about the
senseless competition among Japanese businessmen. Yujiro Ishihara
becomes popular as a James Dean-type of rebellious youth; in the 1960s,
he is the leading star. In this year the average Japanese went to twelve
or thirteen movies, an all-time record. The Japanese film market is
monopolized by the six major studios—^Toho, Shochiku, Daiei, Shin
Toho, Nikkatsu, and Toei—each producing about one hundred films
annually.
1959
Parts 1 and 2 of Masaki Kobayashi's The Human Condition, a tragedy
set in Manchuria during the latter part of World War II, are released.
When Part 6 is completed in 1961, it becomes the longest Japanese
film, with a total running time of about nine hours. Nobuo Nakagawa
directs The Totsuya Ghost Story on the Tokaido {Tokaido Totsuya Kaidan),
based on the classic thriller. Kon Ichikawa directs Fires on the Plain

258 about starving Japanese soldiers in the Philippines who con

sume human flesh. Satsuo Yamamoto directs The Song of the Cart, about
a woman living in a feudal farming village. Kihachi Okamoto directs
Desperado Outpost {Dokuritsu Gurentai), a satire on the Imperial Army.
1960
Nagisa Oshima creates a stir with the portrayal of youths rebelling
against established morality in Cruel Story of Touth, and by depicting a
disruptive dispute within the leftist student movement in Night and Fog
in Japan. Young directors who also made their first films at Shochiku
are dubbed "Shochiku's nouvelle vague" since they advocated reform.
Kinoshita directs The River Fuefuki {Fuefukigawd), a masterpiece of re
alism on the medieval wars seen through the farmers' eyes. Kon Ichi
kawa makes his nostalgic Her Brother. Kaneto Shindo makes The Island
{Hadaka no Shima), without dialogue and with an incredibly low budget
and a cast and crew often or so. Despite being shown at small public ^
halls rather than movie theaters, it wins the Grand Prix at the Moscow 2
Film Festival and becomes the model for small, autonomous film pro- g
duction companies. ^
1961
In Pigs and Battleships Shohei Imamura humorously depicts the mores
of the "colonized" Japanese living near a U.S. naval port. In Bad
Boys Susumu Hani uses real delinquents as actors, filming their story
entirely on location.Kurosawa makesYojimbo, a period drama brimming
with showmanship.
1962
In A Band of Assassins {Shinobi no Mono) Satsuo Yamamoto sees feudal
times through the eyes of rebels and peasants. Kiriro Urayama directs
A Street of Cupolas {Kyupora no Am Machi), the story of a young boy and
girl growing up healthy and sound despite their poverty. Yoshishige
Yoshida directs Akizu Hot Springs, about a passionate, self-destructive
love affair. A hit comedy about a shrewd opportunist who advances
in the business world, The Age of Irresponsibility in Japan {Nippon Mu-
sekinin Jidai), reflecting Japan's economic success, is turned into a
series that lasts several years. Previous movies about white-collar
workers often showed them as pathetic figures, and so this cheerful,
optimistic film is unusual in the genre. Masaki Kobayashi directs
Harakiri, a powerful, orthodox period drama. In The Story of ^atoichi
{Zatoichi Monogatari) actor Shintaro Katsu plays the blind masseur who
is also a famed swordsman. It is so successful that it becomes a series,
lasting about ten years, with two or three films released annually. Za-
toichi recalls the Sazen Tange series, which was extremely popular from
the late 1920s throughout the 1930s, attesting to the popularity of a
physically handicapped hero in period drama.
259
1963
The fad for mode-vn yakuza movies begins. Swordfighting movies fea
turing jialcM.ea (outlaws) as their main characters have been an impor
tant subgenre in period drama ever since the 1920s, but these modern
yakuza movies are distinguished by their contemporary settings, a for
malized Kabuki-like aesthetic intensified by the use of color, and the
cruelty of the killings. Their popularity lasts about ten years and tra
ditional period dramas almost vanish entirely from the screen. Begin
ning with A Glorious Life {Hana no Shogai), television (NHK) begins
producing long period drama serials. The main characters are usually
political leaders, and the view of history is seen from the upper class—
a direct contrast to Mizoguchi's postwar period dramas on the lives of
the lower classes. Extremely low-cost pornography, "pink" movies,
g are made. Imamura directs The Insect Woman^ in which he observes
^ the life of a prostitute as microscopically as a scientist studying an
W insect.
H 1964
hh Imamura makes IntentionsofMurder, a masterpiece that portrays the te-
^ nacity and vitality of a woman from the lower classes. Masaki Ko-
^ bayashi directs Kwaidan (Kaidan), four magnificently executed ghost
^ stories. Hiroshi Teshigawara directs the avant-garde Woman in the
W Dunes {Suna no Onna), a symbolic depiction of life in marginal circum-
^ stances. Uchida directs Hunger Straits {Kiga Kaikyo), a powerful crime
2 movie. Eiichi Kudo directs The Great Melee {Dai Satsujin), a period dra-
W ma resembling a modern yakuza movie that also reflects the student
> movement of the time. Masahiro Shinoda directs Assassination {Ansatsu),
a portrayal of a charismatic country samurai. Movie audiences continue
to decline in the face of competition from television.
1965
Ichikawa's Tokyo Olympiad(Tokyo Orimpikku) and Kurosawa's Red Beard
are released.
1966
In the following works sex is the central theme: Imamura's The Por
nographers: Introduction to Anthropology {Jinruigaku Nyumon), Oshima's
Violence at Noon, Masumura's The Red Angel, and Seijun Suzuki's
Violence Elegy.
1967
Oshima directs A Treatise on Japanese Bawdy Song, on sexual repression,
but which is also an investigation of fantasy. Imamura directs the docu
mentary A Man Vanishes {Ningen Johatsu), in which a woman's private
life is investigated through a hidden camera. Koji Wakamatsu directs
Violated Women in White, a masterful, sado-masochistic "pink" movie.
260
1968
Kosaku Yamashita directs Big-Time Gambling Boss {Socho Tobaku), one
of the best modern yakuza movies. Propelled by Oshima's avant-garde,
antiestablishment Death by Hanging, the Japanese Art Theater, ATG,
begins production of successful low-cost, experimental films, which have
continued to this day. Imamura directs The Profound Desire of the Gods,
a masterpiece set on an outlying island and recounted from a cultural
anthropological viewpoint. In the tragicomedy Bullet {Nikudan),
Kihachi Okamoto examines the psychology of young kamikaze pilots.
Shinsuke Ogawa directs the feature-length documentary Summer in
Sanrizuka: The Front Linefor the Liberation of Japan, on the farmers' op
position to building Tokyo's international airport at Narita. As the
New Left becomes more active, there is an increase in the number of
independent productions of social documentaries concerning student, >
political, antipollution movements, etc. g
1969 2
In the late 1960s the youth movements undergo a transformation ^
throughout the world, and in Diary of a Shinjuku Thief Oshima depicts h-i
Shinjuku, which was the center of this transformation in Tokyo. In
Double Suicide Masahiro Shinoda presents classical Kabuki with avant-
garde dramaturgy. Yoji Yamada directs It's Tough To Be a Man, a
comedy and the first of the only consistently successful series during the
following twelve years of decline in the Japanese film industry.
1970
Yoshishige Yoshida directs Eros Plus Massacre, an avant-garde master
piece concerning the problem of sex and revolution among anarchists
in the 1910s. Imamura directs the feature-length documentary set in
a U.S. naval port. Historyof PostwarJapan as Told by a Bar Hostess, an
unflinching portrayal of Japan's slavish devotion to America and its
postwar lust for money. Oshima depicts the schism between concept
and reality in The Man Who Left His Will on Film (Tokyo Senso Sengo
Hiwa), where sex and violence become abstractions of the anguish
of the human soul. Akio Jissoji directs This Transient Life (Mujo), a
powerful, sensual treatment of incest.
1971
Noriaki Tsuchimoto directs Minamata: The Victims and Their World,
a documentary concerning the victims of mercury poisoning and their
indictment of the commercial enterprises that cause it. Shuji Terayama
directs Throw Away Tour Books, Let's Go into the Streets (Sho o Suteyo,
Machi e Deyo), a somewhat grotesque but cheerful and comical avant-
garde film. In The Ceremony (Gishiki) Oshima summarizes postwar Jap
anese history in his depiction ofthe family ofa provincial man of stat- 20 j
us. Nikkatsu studios avoid bankruptcy by specializing in low-cost
films, so-called roman porno movies.
1972
Tatsumi Kumashiro's Sayuri Ichijo—Moist Desire, on the anarchistic
life of a stripper, wins critical attention; afterward he continues to
make nihilistic porno films full of life and freedom.
1973
The popularity of modern yakuza movies ends, to be replaced by
gloomy violent films of gangster battles, but only Kinji Fukasaku's
Battles Without Honor and Humanity series produces any box-office hits.
1974
Shuji Terayama directs Pastoral Hide and Seek (Den'en ni Shisu), an avant-
garde film of erotic folklore. Kumashiro directs The Four-and-a-Half-
 § Mat Room in Back—Soft, Secret Skin, a masterful porno film rich in
^ emotion, anarchy, and nihilism.
W 1975
H Fukasaku directs The Graveyardof Honor and Humanity {Jingi no Hakaba),
g a masterpiece in the genre of violent film. Satsuo Yamamoto directs
Annular Eclipse {Kinkanshoku), an expose of Japan's leading politicians,
^ none of whom make any protest.
^ 1976
M Oshima directs The Realm of the Senses, a masterpiece of hard-core
^ pornography. The film was developed in Paris, and the version shown
2 in Japan was cut by the censors. Kazuhiko Hasegawa directs Toung
^ Murderer (Seishun no Satsujinsha), a drama about a young man who kills
both his parents.
1977
Yoji Yamada's The Yellow Handkerchieves of Happiness scores a hit. Its
presentation of wholesome love between an average man and woman
stands out in an age of cinematic sex and violence. Actress Sachiko
Hidari directs The Long Single Road Ahead {Toi Ippon no Michi), a power
ful film about workers produced by the National Railway Workers
Union. Kaneto Shindo directs The Solitary Travels of Chikuzan (Chikuzan
Hitori Tabi), about the life of a wandering blind shamisen musician.
1978
Yasuzo Masumura directs Double Suicide at Sonezaki {Sonezaki Shinju),
based on a Kabuki play about passion that ends in death.
1979
Imamura directs Revenge Is for Us, a semidocumentary about a man
who commits a series of murders.
1980
2g2 Kurosawa directs Kagemusha, an epic elegy on grand medieval battles.
Suzuki directs ^igeunerweisen, a ghost story told with aesthetic deca
dence.
1981
Kohei Oguri directs Muddy River {Doro no Kawa), about childhood
friendship and premature awakening to adult realities. Yoshitaro
Negishi directs Distant Thunder (Enrai), concerning a young farmer who
bravely persists despite the decline of agriculture in industrialized Japan.
Both these young directors win critical acclaim, as does Suzuki for Heat
Shimmer Theater [Kageroza), a beautiful, modern ghost story.
APPENDIX II

An Interpretive Biography
by Gregory Barrett

The sentiments expressed in Japanese film strike a responsive emotional

chord in Tadao Sato for they are the result of the common experiences
of men like himself who lived through World War II and witnessed
Japan's postwar collapse and its subsequent recovery. His background
is a strong influence on his critical judgment, and so a brief account
of the important junctures in his life would enable us to better under
stand his point of view, since he continually relates personal experiences
to film, thereby augmenting his comprehension of both. A summary
of his social and political concerns is also in order as they affect his cri
tique of Japanese film.
Tadao Sato was born in the provincial city of Niigata, northeast
Japan, in 1930. He was the eighth and youngest child of a shopkeeper
who dealt in equipment for fishing boats. The first critical juncture in
his life may have occurred when he failed the entrance examination
to high school because he forgot to bow while a poem by the emperor
was being recited by one of the examiners, and was accused of disloyalty
to the emperor and the nation. 263
Sato has jokingly admitted that his life-long hatred of authoritari
anism stems from this single incident; although at the time he was
plagued by guilt for this '^sin of disloyalty" and, to erase it, turned
"militarist." He enrolled in a Naval Air Cadet pretraining school and
became an apprentice seaman in the Imperial Navy in 1945.
Yet in doing penance for one sin Sato committed another, for he
joined the navy against his mother's wishes. The subsequent guilt he felt
toward her probably played a large part in his 'Surmisal, in Chapter
Four, that cinematic images of suffering women have a strong hold
on Japanese men largely because they induce guilt. In this respect,
Sato concurs with the University of California's psychological an
thropologist, George A. De Vos, who, on the basis of extensive re
search, concluded that the Japanese mother induces guilt feelings in
 O her children by her "quiet suffering," or moral masochism, and a child's
^ failures and rebelliousness are interpreted by the child as one cause
W of her suffering.
H Sato became thoroughly disillusioned with militarism even before the
hh war ended with Japan's defeat. In Chapter Five he reminisces on his
^ own experiences in the pretraining school in order to show how they
^ contrasted with the pristine screen image shown in TAe IVar at Sea
^ from Hawaii to Malaya. "Each day was filled with brutal punishment.
W We were subjected to repeated slaps on the face and to the torture
^ of endless calisthenics, and the NCOs constantly hit us with staves
2 and ropes, often for personal gratification." Thus, the young Sato saw
W through the sham of discipline and recognized his naval training for
> what it was: the brutal exercise of power over young men who were,
in effect, being trained to die.
When the war ended Sato returned to Niigata, first working in a
factory and then as a clerk with Japan National Railway. At that time,
like many other young Japanese, he was attracted to communist
thought for several reasons: he belonged to the working class, the
proletariat; and in communist literature, which flourished in the
immediate postwar period, he found an answer to the most perplexing
question for Japanese then—namely, why did Japan fight in and lose
the war? In the Imperial Navy he had been indoctrinated to believe
that he was fighting to liberate Asia from Western imperialism and had
thought that such a moral course of action could not fail. Books pub
lished after the war, however, pointed out the relationship between
military expansion and capitalistic expansion, and thus the moral basis
for the war was removed.
Another reason for communism's appeal was that it restored Sato's
faith in being Japanese. Defeat for the nation had dealt both a ma
264
terial and a moral blow to the Japanese. Now that the grand claim of
liberating Asia had been exposed, Japan's militarism was reduced to
a brutal exercise of power, the epitome of authoritarianism. For an
idealistic youth like Sato, there was nothing worthy of respect in those
who submit to it, and since he was Japanese himself, he felt he had
nothing of value to identify with. When the communists were released
from prison by SGAP, Sato, and many others, saw them as heroes
because they had at least resisted militarism and fascism, and in their
courage Sato was able to regain his pride in being Japanese. Actually,
the Occupation authorities themselves intended to foster such feelings
by lending encouragement to films about Japanese who resisted the old
regime. And lastly, communist thought appealed to Sato because he
saw in it the ideal of a classless society where everyone is equal.
 In 1949, with the surplusof young workers, Sato was laid off byJapan >
National Railway and got a job as a telephone repairman with Nippon
Telegraph and Telephone Public Corporation. Since a high school di- izj
ploma was important, he enrolled in anight school but seldom attended 2
classes, deciding instead to educate himself by reading books on sub- ^
jects that interested him—psychology, literature, sociology. This even
tually led him to develop his own theory of dokugaku, or self-education,
as opposed to academic training, and to become a theoriston education
also. He read, went to movies in his spare time, and had his essays
on them published by magazines such as Eiga hyoron {Film Criticism)
and Shiso no kagaku {The Science of Thought). In 1956, his collection of
essays was published as Japanese Film, and Sato joined the editorial
staff of Eiga hyoron and moved to Tokyo, the next important juncture
in his life.
For most Japanese the move from the provinces to the capital is an
unsettling, if not traumatic, experience. Family and friends are left
behind, and the uneventful but familiar is replaced by the eventful
and uncertain. As Tadao Sato says, in Chapter Three, "Motion pictures
began to cater to the solitary bachelors in the big cities. Most of them,
myself included, came to the city alone from the provinces and were
without family connections. They empathized with the yakuza hero,
an orphan in the universe."
While coping with loneliness in Tokyo, Sato also became disen
chanted with communism, for 1956 was the year of the suppression of
Hungary and Khruschev's speech denouncing Stalinism. As early as
1950 Sato had become disillusioned with the Japan Communist
Party, which had split into the international faction {kokusai-ha) and
the main faction {shuryu-ha) as a result of Comintern's criticism of its
policy on peaceful revolution. The former followed the new Soviet
theory and the latter adhered to the old one. During tha.t same year
the Korean War broke out, and as Japan was still under Occupation,
MacArthur ordered the dissolution of the Japanese Communist
Party. In the ensuing red purge the movement was forced under
ground and no one knew of its precise activities; however, there were
rumors of an internecine war with each faction accusing the other of
being a puppet of imperialism, and these rumors forced Satoto review
his thoughts on communism. In the examining process Sato began to
suspect a growing contradiction between the ideal Soviet Union and
the real one.
In 1954 Sato wasstrongly influenced by a book written by Shunsuke
Tsurumi, Taishu geijitsu {The Art of the People)^ which maintained that,
contrary towhatcommunist leaders and intellectuals believed—that the
 g Japanese masses desired a revolution—in reality the people are con-
^ servative and do not like even the idea of revolution. From this Sato
• •

W concluded that communist leaders only interpreted for the masses to

H suit their own aims. Moreover, he wondered if university graduates
HH could really understand how the common people felt. Their plan, it
seemed, was first to enlighten the people ideologically and then lead
^ them; however, it was more important for Sato to understand their sen-
^ timents first. Thus, in his essays on films he endeavors to understand
W the sentiments of the common people rather than negate them as the
^ communist intellectuals had done.
g When the tyrannyofStalinism was revealed in 1956 when Soviet tanks
^ moved in to crush the Hungarian revolt, there was no doubt in Sato's
> mind about the strong hold the Soviet regime exerted over its satellite
states. Sato realized that while the left and the right were ideologically
incompatible, when it came to the exercise of power they were no dif
ferent. The Soviet Army presence in Hungary was not any different
from the old Imperial Army in China, and worship of the emperor
or of the Soviets could be equated with submission to power.
Sato's disillusionment with communism probably made him more
receptive to the films of the new directors of the late 1950s. His previous
concern for social justice made him applaud the leftist humanism
of older directors like Tadashi Imai and Satsuo Yamamoto, and
the sympathy shown for the weak by Akira Kurosawa and Keisuke
Kinoshita. He claimed that these directors belonged to the generation
that was intellectually initiated during the Marxist domination of
Japanese thought in the late 1920s to early 1930s, when artistic expres
sion tended to be based on the idea of social justice.
In contrast, the new directors seemed more concerned with the in-
200 tricacies of individual egos, which drew them to Sato, who did not
hold much store for social justice. As editor-in-chief of Eiga hyoron,
he devoted a special issue to new directors in 1958, and the essay by
Yasuzo Masumura stated their case best. Masumura rejected the so
cially realistic films of the past, claiming that the detailed delineation
of social realities served only to overemphasize the pressures of society
on people, thereby rendering the individual's defeat almost inevitable.
Masumura intended to ignore this to draw attention to the human ego,
expressing himself by exaggerating it.
As Sato stated in Chapter Eleven, directors like Masumura belonged
to the postwar generation, which had witnessed the exposure of the
limitations of various schools of thought. From this experience, their
self-assertion took precedence over social justice, and they soon pro
gressed toward opposition to oppression in any shape or form.
 Thus, Sato, who had similarly witnessed the defects of communism, >
identified with these new directors, this postwar generation. He partic- g
ularly admired Masumura because the latter, by ignoring external
conditions, also ignored the power ofauthority. However, ignoring it ^
was not enough; one has to oppose it. And the new generation did ^
not progress toward opposition to oppression in any shape or form until
Nagisa Oshima came along.
Sato has been a friend of Oshima's since the latter's assistant director
days at Shochiku studios. He praised Oshima's first film in 1959 and
has been a sympathetic critic of his works throughout Oshima's career.
What attracted Sato to Oshima was Oshima's uncompromising, anti-
establishmentarian themes, evident from his first film, which coincided
with Sato's own loathing for authoritarianism and revived the leftist
film tradition of the early 1930s, in which the establishment was at
tacked.
This antiestablishmentarianism is not only directed against conser
vatives. Leftists also have their own establishments, like the Japan
Communist Party, which can oppress minority factions and individuals
just as much as rightist establishments. In Night and Fog in Japan
Oshima indicated that tyranny not only exists in the Stalinist-type
leadership of the student movement of the 1950s but also among the
leaders of the movement in 1960, when the film was made.
In Oshima's films oppression is not limited to the political sphere;
it can also occur as the result of an established social order, such as
the family system, education system, etc. He is against any form of
oppression, and in Oshima, Sato found a kindred spirit.
This "opposition to oppression in any shape or form" was also evi
dent in the New Left, and faith in it replaced Sato's disillusionment
with the old Left. Thus, he welcomed the student revolt in Japan in 257
the late 1960s, when activists occupied university buildings through
out Japan. Although in some cases the cause of a particular campus
revolt seemed insignificant (such as a rule revision that restricted stu
dent freedom), the prerogatives of the university still came under the
category of "opposition to oppression." Regardless of the causes, Sato
was impressed by the fact that student activists would not accept the
excuse that although the system was evil the people who administered
it and made a living from it were themselves innocent victims of the
system. If the university was evil, said the students, then those who
administered it and their teachers were also evil. It seemed that
Sato felt that by pinning the blame on the people in the system,
people recognized their responsibility for it and the system could be
changed. In the past, while people admitted that the system was bad.
 g their conclusion was always that it was impossible to change it.
One result of campus revolts was that some courses would be de-
W termined by students, some of whom asked that Sato, the working-
H man critic, be allowed in 1971 to teach at the University of Tokyo,
the citadel of academic elitism. He used some of the essays in this col-
^ lection as his text then, and the following year he taught at the same
^ university's school ofjournalism. Thereafter, he returned tofree-lance
^ writing. He had left Ezga hyoron in 1961, and after serving as the editor-
W in-chief of Shiso no kagaku in 1962, had had no official position.
^ Sato's admiration for student activists lasted until the early 1970s,
g when the movement degenerated into internecine strife and violent
S battles that took a toll on student lives. Sato felt that the radical student
> leaders were regarding themselves as a privileged class, which had
the right to commit acts of violence against others, and as such, they
did not differ from those who had seized power and had become cor
rupted by it. Those who had pointed an accusing finger at the adminis
trators in the system and their own teachers had lost their ''innocence."
In accounting for the change in Oshima's films in the late 1960s, when
he seemed to have become taciturn, Sato says, in Chapter Eleven, that
Oshima could no longer judge others with the premise that he alone
was innocent, and this can also be considered Sato's assessment of
what happened to the Japanese student movement.
The degeneration of student activists reveals that oppression is also
perpetuated by the pleasure human beings find in exercising control
over others, in other words, they really lust for power. In the character
of the poor drayman in The Song of the Cart, Sato pointed out (Chapter
Eight) that given the chance to exercise power a poor man would
oppress others just as much as a rich man.
Disillusionment with the student movement was coupled with disap
268
pointment with the new socialist nations, such as Cuba and Vietnam,
Sato had once admired. Despite their internal reforms their foreign
policy is pursued through the use of power, which is, in effect, a form
of oppression. Disenchantment with socialism, however, has not led
Sato to embrace the capitalist camp, for he doubted whether capi
talism could contribute more to people's happiness.
However, Sato was not left with a gloomy social and political out
look. When asked about his political view in an interview, Sato said
that he no longer believes in ideology but he would welcome something
like China's cultural revolution if it happened spontaneously. However,
as that movement resulted in the deification of Mao Tse-tung, which
can be equated with the prewar worship of the Japanese emperor,
it is far from the ideal of any egalitarian society.
 Sato's ideal ofa classless society has also led him to formulate a new ^
theory on education, as the present system is creating a new class so- ^
ciety based on elitism. Modeled after Sato's own experiences, he pro- ^
poses that all students, after graduating from high school, engage in ^
physical labor, as Sato himself did, from age 16 to 26. Then, with the ^
decline in physical strength in middle age, they can either do clerical
work or go to college. In Sato's theory, as in Mao's, there will not be a
special elitist class, only different periods in the lives of all members
of society—times when they either worked with their hands or their
minds.
As Sato abhors the exercise of power and, unlike Mao, he will not
force his theory of education on the people but rely on Japanese youth
to follow his example. He has propagated these views in ten books
on education and has found some receptivity.
The overriding purpose of all the books Sato has written on film
and other aspects of the popular culture of Japan has been to clarify
the sentiments of the people. When he reviewed film genres that were
beneath the dignity of college-educated critics, he attempted to explain
the feelings of the so-called lower classes. His recent book on Chushin-
gura, the epic that appeals to all social classes, examines the structure
of sentiments in the whole of Japanese society. A truly egalitarian
society would not be one based solely on the interests and sentiments
of the working class, but on those of all the social classes.
Sato does not really believe that an egalitarian society can be
brought into existence through political revolution. Political change
usually boils down to a change in power, and violence commonly be
gets violent reactions rather than subtle changes. Thus, Sato is most
interested in the small changes in the everyday life of the people. An
example of these changes is that more and more young couples today
269
live with the wife's parents and, consequently, there is much less
friction between the young wife and mother-in-law, which has affected
the personalities of Japanese women, both young and old. Such shifts
in the continuum of Japanese sentiments are revealed in popular
culture, and Sato's attention has recently been drawn to the daytime
television dramas for the housewife.
In Chapter Twelve Sato observed that the television image of the
middle-aged woman in family dramas was quite different from the old
one of the suffering mother. She has evolved into a strong-minded,
attractive woman who acts as though she can enjoy life now that her
children are grown-up. This change can mean that middle-aged Jap
anese women are happier than their counterparts in the past, now
that friction with younger women has been reduced and there is less
 § need for maternal sacnfices because economic conditions have im-
^ proved so much. However, in Josei hunka no jidai ga yatte kita {The
W Age of Feminine Culture Has Come, an essay appearing in Fujin koron
H [The Consensus of Women']^ April, 1978), Sato finds it more significant
g that these television family dramas are now generally written by women
scenarists for a predominately housewife audience. The old movie im-
^ age ofthe drab but courageous mother, who gives her all for her kids,
^ has been fashioned by male scriptwriters and male directors for an
00 audience that included many men, and this reflected their guilt feelings
^ toward their own mothers.
§ In addition to the change in image of the middle-aged housewife, Sato,
w
in Terehi dorama to Nihonjin (TV Dramas and the Japanese^ an essay ap
pearing in Drama^ No. 1, July, 1979), has noted that compared with the
movies of the past, there has been a larger number of stories about women
running small businesses or in various occupations, and even some
concerning leaders in the Japanese Women's Liberation movement.
As early as 1966 there was an excellent television drama about the
antiwar poetess, Akiko Yosano, who lived in the Meiji era (1868-1912).
Then, in 1977, the life of Itsue Takamure (1894-1976), a feminist and
researcher in the history of women, was portrayed in Hi no Kuni no Onna
{Womanfrom the Land of Fire, the fire referring to her native area of
Kumamoto, where the famous volcano Mt. Aso is found). In this drama
her self-centered husband gradually recognized her superior ability
and, in effect, became her househusband so that she could complete
her research. Her most famous book, Bokeisei no kenkyu {Research on
Matriarchy)^ was published in 1938. On April 6, 1979, there was a
two-hour drama entitled Ameyuki-san^ concerning Waka Yamada, a
marriage consultant and social critic who severely criticized the
male-oriented Japanese society of the 1920s and 1930s. Rescued from
270
prostitution in Seattle by one man, who later committed suicide, she
married another man who loved and respected her, even though she had
been a prostitute. The drama seemed to suggest that she became great
through the sacrifices of these men, and thus reversed the old theme of
male success based on female sacrifice.
In these recent television dramas Sato detects a change in the de
piction of male-female psychology in Japan. In the old movies a man
occasionally sacrificed himself for a woman, and as this image was
directed toward an audience including many males, it was an atone
ment for the sins of a male-dominated society. Now that television
drama is aimed at a predominately female audience, this sort of action
can be accepted as a natural expression of love. In other words, an al
ternate mode of behavior in male-female relations is being presented
on television, one quite diflferent from the traditional mode where ^
love is measured against guilt. This can become a model for future g
behavioral patterns, thereby affecting Japanese society. Although few g
men watch these dramas, the middle-aged mothers who do may trans- ^
mit to their daughters different expectations in marriage from those g
of old, and young men who approached these ideals would be more
liked than those who did not. In this way, Japanese male behavioral
patterns can be said to be affected at least indirectly by the influence
of female-oriented television dramas.
The present-day television dramas are also a manifestation of what
Sato calls the "feminine culture." The new culture itself is the expres
sion of a new social class, which he describes in The Age of Feminine
Culture Has Come. It consists of women, children, and old people and
can be called a consumer class, since they consume the products us
ually made by men; however, Sato thinks that this is a negative view
of the relationship. In the consumption of products he sees the re
production of human beings, spirit {kokoro), and life itself. He views
children as beings who are in the process of forming their spirit, and
old people as those who have completed this formation. The house
wife gives birth to children and protects and cares for the aged, her
own or her husband's parents, and, in a way, "manages" their spirits
or hearts (kokoro).
When manufacturing products is the central concern of society,
men are thought of as the producers and women, children, and old
people only as consumers. However, when we consider the fact that
products are only made in order to reproduce life and spirit, then the
consumers can be called reproducers. Sato sees the gradual replacement
of a production society by a reproduction society, where women would
occupy the most important position. 2y j
For Sato, both capitalistic and socialistic societies are based on pro
duction. The struggle between them is not only based on the ideal of
freedom versus the prevention of exploitation but also on competition
for producing the most goods. In both there is the belief that social
justice can only be realized in an affluent society. Recently, however,
this common belief has hit a few snags on the problems of pollution and
limited natural resources. Moreover, in the product-oriented societies
of both capitalist and socialist countries children and the aged are op
pressed. This is particularly true of modern Japan, where the young are
forced to study for increasingly difficult school entrance examinations
in order to get a higher wage in the labor market, and where old people
tend to be considered useless because they no longer produce anything.
Along with women, they both form a new oppressed class, for in the light
 g ofrecent wage increases, it is difficult to call the Japanese working class
^ oppressed. Sato believes that as the caretaker and protectress of chil-
W dren and the aged, the woman is in a position of leadership in this new
H oppressed class. She can either press forward for liberation or subor
ns dinate herself to her husband and charges.
The above views of Sato bear some correspondence to those of Ameri-
^ can social scientists. The feminist sociologist, Arlie Hochschild, stated
^ in a lecture attended by the translator that in a capitalistic society the
W labor of women as housewives and caretakers of children is under-
^ valued because it carries no wage, and that conversely the "productive"
g labor of their husbands was validated by wages. In Socialization for
S Achievement (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973) De Vos
> states that in America, the women's role is seen as less worthy because,
as housewives, they are not given the same status as men in an eco
nomically oriented society. However, De Vos believes that their role
was valued in traditional Japan because the production of children
insured the all-important continuity of the family. The maternal role
was validated by the exacting training received for it, and even the role
of housewife was considered an important one requiring a great deal
of planning and a sense of organization.
Because of urbanization and the nuclearization of the Japanese
family, Sato believes that the role of housewife and mother has lost
some of its old value and is in need of revalidation. The typical modern
Japanese housewife lives in a city or suburban apartment and her
husband is often a white-collar worker. His or her parents may come
to live with them at some time or other; however, most of the time
she has only one or two children to take care of. Housekeeping does
not take as much time as in the past due to modern appliances and the
2^2 small size of the typical apartment. The rural and urban housewife of
the past, on the other hand, usually had more children, a bigger res
idence to keep up, and the aged to care for. She had to work in the rice
paddies or on the farm, and entertain more at home because in the old
neighborhood society her husband's residence and work place were
often the same. In contrast, the modern Japanese housewife seems to
have too much free time and, in a culture where hard work is valued
more than in most, she even appears lazy.
Sato's interest in the new feminine culture sums up his present social
and political concerns. As he is opposed to occupational discrimination,
he welcomes television dramas about career women. Moreover, he
wants to revalidate the role of the modern housewife. In this respect
he concurs with Itsue Takamure, who formed a bypath in the Japanese
Women's Liberation movement by stressing the importance of child-
raising over the need to get more jobs for women. Finally, by speaking >
out against the oppression of women, the aged, and the young in a g
product-oriented society, Sato has demonstrated his own "opposition g
to oppression in any shape or form," a stance which reflects his life- ^
long enmity toward authoritarianism. m

273
 INDEX

Aa Kimi ga Ai, see O/i, Your Love! Ani to Sono Imoto, see Brother and His
Abe Clan, The (Abe Ichizoku), 46-47, 254 Younger Sister, A
Abe Ichizoku, see Abe Clan, The Annular Eclipse (Kinkanshoku), 262
Abe Yutaka, 101, 252 Ansatsu, see Assassination
A Bout de Souffle, see Breathless Ansatsu no Mori, see Oppressed Students,
Account of the Chivalrous Commoners of The
Japan, An (Nihon Kyokaku-den), 222 anti-war films, 22, 105, 108-09,
Actress (JoyuJ, 91, 255 112-13, 235, 256, 257
AdauchiSenshu, see Revenge Champion, The Antonioni, M., 229
Affair, The (Joen), 98 Aoi Sammyaku, see Blue Mountains
Ageof Irresponsibility in Japan, The ( Nip Aozora Musume, see Cheerful Girl, A
pon Musekinin Jidai), 259 Arega Minato no Hi Da, see Pan Chopali
Ahen Senso, see Opium War, The Arigato-san, see Mr. Thank You
Ai no Koriida, see Realm of the Senses, The Army (Rikugun), 104, 105, 109
Ai to Kibo no Machi, see Town of Love and Asaoka Ruriko, 87
Hope, A Ashi ni Sawatta Onna, see Woman Who
Aizen Katsura, see Compassionate Buddha Touched the Legs, The
Tree, The Ashizuri Misaki, see Cape Ashizuri
Akahige, see Red Beard Assassination (Ansatsu), 260
Akai Satsui, see Intentions of Murder atom bomb films, 197-200
Akai Tenshi, see Red Angel, The Atsumi Kiyoshi, 243; pis. 57, 58
Akanishi Kakita, see Kakita Akanishi authoritarianism, 263, 264, 266, 267,
Akasen Chitai, see Street of Shame 273
Akizu Hot Springs (Akizu Onsen^,91 -92,
98, 231, 259 Bad Boys (FuryoShonen), 209, 259; pi. 51
Akizu Onsen, see Akizu Hot Springs Bad Sleep Well, The (Warui Yatsu Hodo
Akutagawa Kozo, 253 Yoku Nemuru), 120, 122
All Is Quiet (Shizuka Nari), 124-26 Baker, Carroll, 202
"All the Earth Is Our Family," 87-88 Bakumatsu Taiyo Den,see SunLegend ofthe
All the King's Men, 36 Shogunate's Last Days
Amachua Kurabu, see Amateur Club Bakushu, see Early Summer
cynA Amakusa Shiro Tokisada, see Shiro Toki- Band of Assassins, A (Shinobi no Mono),
^ sada from Amakusa 259
Amateur Club (Amachua Kurabu), 251 Band of Assassins, H, A (Zoku Shinobi no
America: American-Japanese relations, Mono), 175
82, 197-207, 232, 259, 261; Anpo or BandoTsumasaburo, 19, 26-27, 39,45,
Security Treaty struggle, 217-18; as 251; pi. 8
villain, 164-65; influence of Amer Bangiku, see Late Chrysanthemum
ican movies, 32-37, 186, 250, 251, Banshun, see Late Spring
252, 254; Occupation (1945-52), 26, Barker, The, 33
27,35-37,44-45,104,165, 197,255, Battle at Kawanakajima, The (Kawanaka-
256, 264-65 jima Kassen), 43
America, America, 133 Battles without Honor and Humanity series
Ameyuki-san, 270 (Jingi Naki Tatakai), 242-43, 261
Anderson, Joseph, 11 Beautiful Yoshiwara and the Murder of
Ando Noboru, 53 Hundreds (Hana noYoshiwara Hyakunin
And Yet We Live (Dokkoi Ikiteiru), 107, Giri), 54, 55-56
256 Before Dawn (Yoake mae), 257
Ani Imoto, see Older Brother, Younger Sister Belle, The (Reijin), 161-62
BellsofNagasaki, The( NagasakinoKane), Kaeru), 256
197-98 Carmen's Pure Love (Karumen Junjosu),
benshi (silent movie narrator), 249, 105-6, 108, 113; pi. 28 W
250-51 Catch, The (Shiiku), 220
Bergman, Ingmar, 229 censorship, 26, 32, 35-36, 44-45, 76,
Betrothed, The (Nagasugita Haruj, 213 100-1, 104, 162, 197, 212, 229, 250,
Bicycle Thieves, 136, 256 252, 253, 254, 255, 262
Big- Time GamblingBoss (Socho Tobaku), Ceremony, The (Gishiki), 261
260 Chakiris, George, 200
Biruma no Tategoto, see Harp of Burma Champ, The, 33
Bitter SpiritjImmortal Love, The (Eien no Chaplin, Charlie, 250, 251
Hito), 241 Cheerjul Girl, A (Aozora Musume), 210,
Black Snow (Kuroi Yuki), 232 211
Black Sun (Kuroi Taiyo), 203 Chichi Ariki, see There Was a Father
Bloody Spear at Mount Fuji, A (Chiyari Chikamatsu Monogatari, see Story from
Fuji), 54-55, 257; pi. 16 Chikamatsu, A
"Bluebird Movies," 250 Chikamatsu Monzaemon, 114
Blue Mountains (Aoi Sammyaku), 74, 107 Chikuzan Hitori Tabi, see Solitary Travels
Bock, Audie, 11 of Chikuzan, The
Bonchi, (Bonchi), 90 Children Hand-in-Hand (Teo Tsunagu Ko-
Boro no Kesshitai, see Suicide Troops of the ra), 256
Watchtower, The Children in the Classroom (Kyoshitsuno Ko-
Boryoku no Machi, see Street of Violence domotachi), 208-9
Borzage, Frank, 32 ChildrenoftheAtomBomb(GenbakunoKo),
Boy Who SoldHis Pigeon, The,see Townof 198-99, 257; pis. 48-49
Love and Hope, A Children of the Beehive (Hachi no Su no
Brando, Marlon, 200 Kodomotachi), 256
Breathless (A Bout de Souffle), 216 Children Who Draw Pictures (F o Kaku
Brecht, Berthold, 227 Kodomotachi), 208-9
Bridge to the Sun, 202, 203 China Night (Shina no Yoru), 20\
Broken Drum ( Yabure-daiko), 133 Chi no Mure, see Swarming Farth, The
Brother and His Younger Sister, A (Ani to Chiyari Fuji, see Bloody Spear at Mount
Sono Imoto), 74-75, 140 Fuji, A
Brothers andSisters ofthe TodaFamily, The Chuji Kunisada (Kunisada Chuji), 39
( Toda-ke noKyodai),S9, 138, 139, 141 Chuji Tabi Nikki, see Diary of Chuji's
Buana Toshi no Uta, see Song of Bwana Travels, A
Toshi, The Chushingura, 45, 48
Bunraku puppet theater, 180, 181 cinematic techniques, 12, 19, 20-21,
Bunuel, L., 229 29-30, 32, 39, 54, 55, 79, 116, 117,
Burch, Nod, 11,12 275
118, 178-196, 208-9, 210, 211, 213,
Bushido, 16, 41, 44-51, 222 216-17, 221-22, 223, 226-27, 249,
Bushido—SamuraiSaga (BushidoZankoku 250-51
Monogatari), 172 Civilization, 33
Bushido Zankoku Monogatari, see Bushi Clothes of Deception (Itsuwareru Seiso), 90
do—Samurai Saga communism, 8-9, 40, 107, 110, 122,
Buta to Gunkan, see Pigs and Battleships 223, 256, 264, 265, 266, 267
Byakuran no Uta, see Song of the White Company Presidentseries (Shachoshirizu),
Orchid 163
Compassionate Buddha Tree, The (Aizen
Cabiria, 250 Katsura), 23-24, 74, 241; pi. 6
Call of Distant Mountains, The (Haru- Composition Class ( Tsuzurikata Kyoshitsu),
kanaru Yama no Yobigoe), 243, 244; pi. 254
59 contemporary drama films, 19-20, 21,
Cape Ashizuri (Ashizuri Misaki), 257 23-27, 31, 121, 133, 250
Capra, Frank, 32 Cooper, Gary, 18
Carmen Comes Home (Karumen Kokyo ni Crazed Fruit (Kurutta Kajitsu), 212, 213
a Crazy Page, A (Kurutta Ippeiji), 8, 252; Earth (Tsuchi), 55, 162, 254
c|
pi. 1 Easy Rider, 43
critical realism films, 55, 162 Echigo Tsutsuishi Oya Shirazu, see Story
CruelStory of Youth (Seishun Zankoku Mo- jrom Echigo, A
H nogatari), 177, 215-17, 218, 230, 258 Echo School (Yamabiko Gakko), 107
a»
economy: "double structure," 165-66,
Daibosatsu Toge, see Great Bodhisattva 167-69, 170-71; labor, 165-71,
Pass, The 255-56; postwar recovery, 26, 37,
Daigo Fukuryu-Maru, see Lucky Dragon 91-92, 118, 163-64, 213, 240-41,
No. 5 259, 263
IW Dai Satsujin, see Great Melee, The Edison, Thomas Alva, 249
Dakine no Nagadosu, see Sleeping with a Eien no Hito, see Bitter Spirit!Immortal
W Long Sword Love, The
Danryu, see Warm Current Eisenstein's montage theory, 32
Darkness at Noon (Mahiru no Ankoku), elitism, 268, 269
w
108, 162-63, 171, 235, 257 Embryo Hunts in Secret, The (Taiji ga
> Death by Hanging (Koshikei), 172-73, Mitsuryo Suru Toki), 232
174, 177, 230, 260; pi. 41 EndlessDesire (Hateshi Naki Yokujo),211
Dekigokoro, see Passing Fancy End of Summer, The (Kohayagawa-ke no
democracy: Taisho (1912-26), 40-41, Aki), 190, 191-92
94; postwar, 35-37, 104, 162-64, Enemy of thePeople, An (Minshu no Teki),
225, 247 105
"democratic" films, 104, 105, 107, 108, Enoken, see Enomoto Ken'ichi
255 Enomoto Ken'ichi (Enoken), 253
Den'en ni Shisu, see Pastoral Hide and Seek Enrai, see Distant Thunder
Dersu Uzala (Dersu Uzala), 28, 123 E 0 Kaku Kodomotachi, see Children Who
De Sica, Vittorio, 136, 256 Draw Pictures
Desperado Outpost (Dokuritsu Gurentai)^ Epitome (Shukuzu), 81
258 ErosPlus Massacre(Erosu Purasu Gyakusa-
De Vos, George A., 263-64, 272 tsu), 93-99, 231, 261; pi. 24
Diary ofa Shinjuku Thief (Shinjuku Dorobo Erosu Purasu Gyakusatsu, see Eros Plus
Nikki), 177, 261 Massacre
Diary of Chuji's Travels, A (Chuji Tabi Eternal Rainbow, The (Kono Ten no Niji),
Nikki), 39, 252 106, 165-67, 168, 169-70; pi. 42
Distant Thunder (Enrai), 262 Etsuraku, see Pleasures of the Flesh
Docks of New York, The, 32
documentaries, 197, 208, 209, 220, Family, The (Kazoku), 243
236-37, 238-39, 253, 254, 255, 260, Farewell to the Gang in Moscow (Saraba
261 Mosukuwa Gurentai), 203-5, 206
276 Fellini, Federico, 118, 229
Dog's Life, ^,251
Dokkoi Ikiteiru, see And Yet We Live "feminine culture," 271-73
Dokuritsu Gurentai, see Desperado Outpost Festival Across the Sea (Umi o Wataru
Dolce Vita, La, 118 Sairei), 43
Doro no Kawa, sec Muddy River feudal ideas and sentiments, 11, 23, 26,
Double Suicide (Shinju Ten no Amijima), 38, 126, 132, 134, 180, 245, 246
232, 261 FightingSoldiers (Tatakau Heitai), 100-
Double Suicide at Sonezaki (Sonezaki 1, 254
Shinju), 262 Fires on the Plain (Nobi), 258
DownfallofOsen, The ( Orizuru Osenj, 179 Five Scouts (Gonin no Sekkohei), 101-2,
Drum ofthe WavesofHorikawa, The ( Hori- 202, 254
kawa Nami no Tsuzumi), 114 Five Women Around Him, The (Kare o
DrunkenAngel ( Yoidore Tenshi), 120-21, Meguru Go-nin no Onna), 252
127, 130, 256; pi. 34 Flaming Sky (Moyuru Ozora), 101
Flavor of Green Tea over Rice, The (Ocha-
Early Spring (Soshun), 137, 190 zuke no Aji), 101, 138
Early Summer (Bakushu), 187 Flight Jrom Ashiya, 200
Floating Clouds (Ukigumo), 92, 93, 257; Grapes of Wrath, The, 36
pL 23 Graveyard of Honor and Humanity, The O
Flower Cards Match (HanafudaShobu), 75, W
( n o Hakaba), 262 X
76, 77, 78 Great Bodhisattva Pass, The (Daibosatsu
Forbidden Jehol (Hikyo Nekka), 253 Toge),play, 39, 40; movie, 54, 55; pi.
Ford, Glenn, 200 10
foreign film influence, 31-37, 250-51, Great Melee, The (Dai Satsujin), 260
254 Great White Tower, The (Shiroi Kyoto),
Forgotten Imperial Army, The (Wasure- 163, 175
rareta Kogun)^ 220 Griffith, D. W., 33, 251
Four-and-a-Half-MatRoom inBack—Soft, Growing Up ( Take-kurabe), 257
Secret Skin, The (Yojohan Fusuma no Gyangu Domei, see League of Gangsters
Urabari—Shinobi Hada), 245, 261; pi.
60 HachinoSu noKodomotachi, see Children of
FourSeasons ofChildren( Kodomo noShiki), the Beehive
254 Hadaka no Shima, see Island, The
Fuefukigawa, see River Fuefuki, The Hahako-gusa, see Mother-and-Child Grass
Fuji Junko, 75; pi. 15 Haha o Kowazu-ya, see Mother ShouldBe
Fujimura Shiho, 89 Loved, A
Fukasaku Kinji, 164, 165, 242, 261, 262 Hakuchi, see Idiot, The
Fukuda Eiko, 23 Hakuchu no Torima, see Violence at Noon
Fukushu Suruwa WareniAri,see Revenge Is Hanafuda Shobu, see Flower Cards Match
for Us Hana no Shogai, see Glorious Life, A
Furukawa Takumi, 212 Hana no Yoshiwara Hyakunin Giri, see
Furyo Shonen, see Bad Boys Beautiful Yoshiwara and the Murder of
Hundreds
Gabin, Jean, 18 Hani Susumu, 208-10, 229, 230-31,
Gable, Clark, 18 259
Garden of Women, The (Onna no Sono), Harakiri (Seppuku), 48-49, 259; pi. 13
106, 162-63, 257 Hara Setsuko, 88-89, 90, 91, 126, 139;
geido mono (films about traditional per pis. 22, 33
forming arts), 179, 180 Harp of Burma (Biruma no Tategoto),2bl
Genbaku no Ko, see Children of the Atom Harukanaru Yama no Yobigoe, see Call of
Bomb Distant Mountains, The
Gendaijin, see Moderns, The Hasebe Keiji, 83
Genealogy of Women (Onna Keizu), 222 Hasegawa Kazuhiko, 262
genre, see under name of each genre Hasegawa Kazuo, 24, 201
Genroku Chushingura, see Loyal47 Ronin of Hasegawa Shin, 42
the Genroku Era, The Hashi no Nai Kawa, see River without a
Gentleman's Agreement, 36 277
Bridge
Giants and Toys (Kyojin to Gangu), 211, Hashimoto Shin, 108
258 Hataraku Ikka, see Whole Family Works,
Gion no Shimai, see Sisters of the Gion The
Gishiki, see Ceremony, The Hateshi Naki Yokujo, see Endless Desire
Glorious Life, A (Hana no Shogai), 259 Hatsukoi Jigoku-hen, see Inferno of First
Glow of Life, The (Sei no Kagayaki), 250 Love, The
Goban Tadanobu, see Tadanobu Goban Hawaii-Marei Oki Kaisen, see War at Sea
Godard, Jean-Luc, 216, 229 from Hawaii to Malaya, The
Godzilla (Gojira) , 257 Hayakawa Sessue, 19
Gojira, see Godzilla Head (Kubi), 163
Gonin no Sekkohei, see Five Scouts Heat Shimmer Theater (Kageroza), 262
Good Morning (Ohayo), 137 Hen in the Wind, A (Kaze no Naka no
Gosho Heinosuke, 139, 252-53, 256, Mendori), 142, 188, 256
257 Her Brother (Ototoj, 91, 258
Goulding, Edmund, 32 HereIs a Spring(KokoniIzumiAri^,107-8
Grand Hotel, 32 Hibotan Bakuto, see Red Peony Gambler,
 o The Ikeuchi Junko, 91
c Hidari Sachiko, 262; pis. 43, 54 Ikimono no Kiroku, see Record of a Living
High and Low (Tengoku to Jigoku), 120, Being
w 121, 122, 130 Ikiru (Ikiru), 28-29, 116-20, 121, 123,
H Hikyo Nekka, see Forbidden Jehol 127-29, 130, 173, 235, 256; pi. 32
C/J
Himeyuri no To^ see Tower of Lilies, The Ikite Ite Yokatta, see It's Good That We're
Hi no Kuni no Onna, see Womanfrom the Still Alive
Land of Fire I'll Never Forget the Song of Nagasaki
> Hiroshima (Hiroshima), 199 (Nagasaki no Uta wa Wasureji), 198,
TJ
> Hiroshima Mon Amour, 199, 203 202
His Butler's Sister, 36 Imai Tadashi, 8, 105, 107-9, 114, 115,
m
C/i Hishakaku (Hishakaku), pi. 14 162,171-72, 199, 223, 235, 256, 257,
W historical films (rekishi mono), 43 266
a
HH
History (Rekishi), 43 Imamura Shohei, 78, 81-87, 114, 192,
History of Postwar Japan as Told bya Bar 211,229,230,246,259,260,261, 262
§ Hostess (Nippon Sengo Shi: Madamu Impasse (Honoho to Onna), 98
> Omboro no Seikatsu), 114, 261 Inagaki Hiroshi, 8, 26, 27, 43, 255, 256
Hitori Musuko, see Only Son, The Inazuma, see Lightning
Hizakurige, see Shank's Mare independent film movements, 107, 220,
Hochschild, Arlie, 272 238-39, 246, 252, 256, 258-59,
Hokori Takaki Chosen, see Proud Challenge, 260-61
The InfernoofFirst Love, The(HatsukoiJigoku-
Home (Kokyo), 243 hen), 230-31
"home drama" films (centering around Innes, Thomas H., 33
a family), 139-44, 192-93, 236, 253 Insect Woman, The (Nippon Konchuki),
Honno, see Lost Sex 83-84, 114, 230, 260; pi. 54
Honoho to Onna, see Impasse Intentions of Murder (Akai Satsui), 84-85,
Horde of Drunken Knights, A (Yoidore 86, 230, 260; pi. 20
Hachiman Ki), 46, 222 Intolerance, 251
Horikawa Hiromichi, 203-4 Ishido Toshiro, 218
Horikawa Nami no Tsuzumi, see Drum of Ishihara Shintaro, 170, 212-13, 257
the Waves of Horikawa, The Ishihara Yujiro, 35, 170, 258
Hori Yasuko, 94 Island, The (Hadaka no Shima), 258-59
Horse (Uma), 254-55 Itami Mansaku, 34,35,41,196,222,253
Hot Wind (Neppu), 165 Ito Daisuke, 39, 45, 252
Human Bullet (Nikudan), 260 Ito INJoe, 94
Human Condition, The ( Ningen noJoken), It's Good That We're Still Alive (Ikite Ite
35, 258; pi. 9 Yokatta), 199
Humanityand Paper Balloons( Ninjo Kami- It's Tough To Be a Man series (Otoko wa
278 Jusen), 222, 254 Tsuraiyo), 243-44, 261; pi. 57
Human Wall, The ( Ningen no Kabej, 163 Itsuwareru Seiso, see Clothes of Deception
Hunger Straits (Kiga Kaikyo), 260 Iwasaki Akira, 102, 252
I Was Born But . . . (Umarete wa Mita
Ibo Kyodai, see Stepbrothers Keredo), 131, 136-37, 138, 141, 253;
Ichiban Utsukushiku, see Most Beautiful, pi. 38
The Izumi Kyoka, 78
Ichijo Sayuri—Nureta Yokujo, see Sayuri
Ichijo—Moist Desire Japanese Archipelago, The (Nihon Retto),
Ichikawa Danjuro, 15, 249 165
Ichikawa Kon, 90,91,212-13,257,258, Japanese Summer: Double Suicide (Muri
260 Shinju Nihon no Natsu), 177
Ichimura Toshiyuki, 118 Japanese Tragedy, A (Nihon no Higeki),
Idiot, The (Hakuchi), 120, 121 Kamei's, 255; Kinoshita's, 106, 114,
leki Miyoji, 133, 258 241
lijima Tadashi, 179-80 Japanese women's liberation move
Ikeru Ningyo, see Living Doll, A ment, 23, 270, 273
Jimpu Groups The (Jimpuren)^ 179 Katusha, 250
Jimpuren, see Jimpu Group, The Kawanakajima Kassen,see Battle at Kawa-
Jingi Naki Tatakai, see Battles without nakajima. The W
Honor and Humanity series X
Kawashima Yuzo, 258
Jingi noHakaba, see GraveyardofHonorand Kayama Yuzo, 130, 204
Humanity, The Kazan, Elia, 132-33
Jinruigaku Nyumon, see Pornographers: In Kaze no Naka no Mendori, see Hen in the
troduction to Anthropology, The Wind, A
Jinsei Gekijo, sec Theater of Life Kazoku, see Family, The
Jirocho of Shimizu (Shimizu Jirocho), 52 Kenka Ereji, see Violence Elegy
Jirocho Sangoku-shi, see Jirocho— The Re Kido Shiro, 214, 215, 252
cord of Three Provinces series Kiga Kaikyo, see Hunger Straits
Jirocho—The Record of Three Provinces Kiku and Isamu (Kiku to Isamu), 108
series (Jirocho Sangoku-shi), 222, 257 Kiku to Isamu, see Kiku and Isamu
Jissoji Akio, 261 Kimi no Na wa, see What Is Your Name?
Joen, see Affair, The Kimura Sotoji, 253
Journey of a Thousand and One Nights Kinkanshoku, see Annular Eclipse
(Matatabi Sen-ichiya), 42, 43; pi. 11 Kinoshita Keisuke, 46, 91, 104, 105-6,
Joyu, see Actress 108, 109, 111, 113, 114, 133, 141-42,
Judge, The (Saibankan) ^ 235 162,214,223,235,241,256,257,258,
Junai Monogatari,see Story ofPureLove, A 266
Kinugasa T einosuke, 8,43,91,196,250,
Kabuki, 7,15-21,25-26,28,31,38,46, 252, 255
54, 75, 114, 180, 245, 254, 261, 262 Kishi Keiko, 89; pi. 7
Kaeriyama Norimasa, 250-51 Kishi Matsuo, 178-79, 180
Kaette Kita Yopparai,see ThreeResurrected Kisses (Kuchizuke), 210-11, 213
Drunkards Kiyokawa Nijiko, 87
Kagawa Kyoko, 89; pis. 29, 46 Kizudarake noSanga,see PublicBenefactor,
Kagemusha (Kagemusha) ,24:6,262; pi. 63 A
Kageroza, see Heat Shimmer Theater Kobayashi Akira, 226
Kagirinaki Zenshin, see Unending Advance Kobayashi, Hideo, 224, 225
Kaidan, see Kwaidan Kobayashi Masaki, 35,48,258,259,260
Kaigun, see Navy Kochiyama Soshun, see Soshun Kochiyama
Kaisha-in Seikatsu, see Life of an Office kodan ("historical tales"), 7, 18
Worker, The Kodomo noShiki, see Four Seasons of Chil
Kakita Akanishi (Akanishi Kakita), 253 dren
Kamei Fumio, 100-1, 105, 174, 199, Kofuku no Kiiroi Hankachi, see Yellow
254, 255, 256 Handkerchieves of Happiness, The
Kamigamino Fukaki Yokubo, see Profound Koga Masato, 102
Desire of the Gods, The 279
Kohayagawa-ke noAki,see End ofSummer,
Kamiyama Sojin, 196 The
Kanamori Bansho, 39 Kojima noHaru, seeSpringonLeper's Island
Kanashimi wa Onna dake ni, see Only Koko ni Izumi Ari, see Here Is a Spring
Women Know Sorrow Kokushi Muso, see Peerless Patriot
Kanojo to Kare, see She and He Kokyo, see Home
Kanto Mushuku, see Kanto Wanderer Kome, see Rice
Kanto Wanderer (Kanto Mushuku), 226- Ko Miiko, 200
27 Kono TennoNiji, see Eternal Rainbow, The
Kare o Meguru Go-nin no Onna, see Five Koshikei, see Death by Hanging
Women Around Him, The Kotani, Henry, 251
Karumen Junjosu, see Carmen's Pure Love Koyama Akiko, 219; pi. 41
Karumen Kokyo ni Kaeru,see Carmen Comes Kubi, see Head
Home Kuchizuke, see Kisses
Kataoka Chiezo, 54, 55; pi. 16 Kudo Eiichi, 260
Kato Tai, 75, 76 Kuga Yoshiko, 89
Katsu Shintaro, 259 Kumagai Hisatora, 46, 162, 254
 o Kumai Kei, 165, 170-71, 172, 174, 225 (Genroku Chushingura), 43
d
Kumashiro Tatsumi, 244-45, 261, 262 Lubitsch, Ernst, 32
Kumonosujo, see Throne of Blood Lucky Dragon No. 5 (Daigo Fukuryu-Ma-
Kunisada Chuji, see Chuji Kunisada ruf 200
Kuragejima: Talesfrom a Southern Island, Lumiere brothers, 249
see Profound Desire of the Gods, The
Kurahara Koreyoshi, 203 MacArthur, Douglas, 265
Kurihara, Thomas, 251 Macbeth, 258
> Kurishima Sumiko, 251 Madame Curie, 36
> Kurobe no Taiyo, see Sun over the Kurobe Madamu to Nyobo, see Neighbor's Wifeand
Gorge Mine, The
W Mahiru no Ankoku, see Darkness at Noon
cn Kuroi Taiyo, see Black Sun
W Kuroi Yuki, see Black Snow Maid of the Deep Mountains (Miyama no
Kurosawa Akira, 8, 25, 28-30, 33, 38, Otome), 250
45, 50, 54, 90, 91, 105, 116-24, 125, Makino Masahiro, 39,46,102,222-23,
126-27, 128-31, 165, 173, 174, 186, 257
191,192,199-200,221-22,223,235, Makino Shozo, 18, 250
241,246,255,256,257,258,259,260, Man Vanishes, A (Ningen Johatsu), 260
262, 266 Man Who Left His Will on Film, The
Kurutta Ippeiji, see Crazy Page, A (Tokyo Senso Sengo Hiwa), 261
Kurutta Kajitsu, see Crazed Fruit Many People (Sobo), 162
Kuwano Michiko, 75 Mao Tse-tung, 268, 269
Kwaidan (Kaidan), 260 Maple Viewing (Momijigari), 15, 249
Kyo Machiko, 30, 90, 198, 200; pi. 35 Marei no Tora, see Tiger of Malaya, The
Kyoshitsu noKodomotachi, see Children inthe Maria no Oyuki, see Oyuki the Madonna
Classroom Marital Relations (Meoto Zenzai), 257
Kyozuka Masako, 91 Marriage Circle, The, 32
Kyupora noAru Machi, see StreetofCupolas, Maruyama Akihiko, 87, 88
A Marxism, see communism
Masaki Hiroshi, 235
Ladyfor a Day, 32-33 Masaoka Itsuko, 94
Lady Musashino (Musashino Fujin), 183 mass and "mini" media, 237-39
Lancaster, Burt, 18, 132 Mastroianni, Marcello, 18
Late Chrysanthemum (Bangiku), 257 Masumura Yasuzo, 90, 210-12, 229,
Late Spring (Banshun), 91, 142, 256 231, 257, 260, 262, 266-67
League of Gangsters (Gyangu Domeij, 165 Mata Au Hi Made, see Until the Day We
leftist films, 9, 32, 40, 55, 104, 161, 162, Meet Again
215, 252, 253, 267 Matatabi Sen-ichiya, see Journeyofa Thou
Leopard, The, 132 sand and One Nights
280 liberal period drama films, 40-43 Matsukawa Derailment Incident, The ( Ma-
Life of an Office Worker, The (Kaisha-in tsukawa Jiken), 163
Seikatsu), 190 Matsukawa Jiken, see Matsukawa Derail
Life of Matsu the Untamed, The (Muho ment Incident, The
Matsu no Issho), 1943 version, 26-27, Meiji period (1868-1912) films, 133,
35, 255, pi. 8; 1958 version, 8, 27 178, 257
Life ofOharu, The (Saikaku Ichidai Onna), Men Who Tread on the Tiger's Tail, The
178, 181, 182-83, 256; pi. 44 (Tora no 0 0 Fumu Otokotachi), 45
Lightning (Inazuma), 92, 195; pi. 47 Meoto Zenzai, see Marital Relations
Li Hsian-lan (Ri Koran), 201 Meshi, see Repast
Living Doll, A (Ikeru Ningyo), 55 Messenger from the Moon ( Tsuki yori no
LongSingleRoadAhead, The ( Toi Ipponno Shisha), 74
Michi), 262 Metropolitan Symphony (Tokai Kokyoga-
Lost Sex (Honnoj, 81, 200 ku), 253
"love melodrama" films, 23-24, 100, Mifune Toshiro, 19, 27, 127, 129, 130,
162, 241, 258 182; pis. 35, 36, 50
Loyal 47 Ronin of the Genroku Era, The Mikuni Rentaro, 176; pis. 37, 47
militarism, 43, 109, 111, 121-22, 126, Mud and Soldiers (Tsuchi to Heitai), Q
139, 140-41, 202, 223, 228, 263-64 103-4, 202; pi. 27 g
militaristic films, 9, 253 Muddy River.(Doro no Kawa), 262 W
Mimura Shintaro, 41-43 Muho Matsu noIssho,see Life of Matsu the
Minamata—Kanja-san to Sana Sekai, see Untamed, The
Minamata: The Victims and Their World Mujo, see This Transient Life
Minamata: The Victims and Their World Munekata Shimai, see Munekata Sisters,
( Minamata—Kanja-san toSono Sekai), The
239, 261 Munekata Sisters, The ( Munekata Shimai),
Minamata victims, 239 137, 188
minorities, 171, 174, 237-39 Murata Minoru, 21, 22, 251
Minshuno Teki,see Enemy ofthePeople, An Muri Shinju Nihon no Natsu, see Japanese
Mishima Yukio, 27-28 Summer: Double Suicide
Miss Oyu (Oyu-sama), 183 Murnau, F. W., 32
Mito Mitsuko, 90 Musashi Miyamoto (Miyamoto Musashi),
Miyama no Otome, see Maid of the Deep pi. 12
Mountains Musashi, see Miyamoto Musashi
Miyamoto Musashi, 43-44 Musashino Fujin, see Lady Musashino
Mizoguchi Kenji, 8, 10, 22-23, 24, 25, MyLove Burns( WagaKoiwa Moenu^, 23,
29, 43, 47, 73, 74, 78, 79-80, 81, 83, 24, 180, 181, 183
84,85,86,90, 162, 172,178-85, 191,
221-22, 241, 253, 254, 256, 257, 259 Nagai Takashi, 197-98
Mizu de Kakareta Monogatari, see Story Nagasaki no Kane, see Bellsof Nagasaki,
Written on Water, A The
Mizuki Yoko, 108 Nagasaki no Utawa Wasureji, seeTil Never
Moderns, The (Gendaijin), 173-74 Forget the Song of Nagasaki
modern action films, 221, 226, 229, Nagasugita Haru, see Betrothed, The
234-35, 237 Nakadai Tatsuya, 35; pis. 9, 13
modernization: catching up with the Nakagawa Nobuo, 258
West and the attendant inferiority Nakahira Ko, 213
complex, 9, 26, 37, 88, 181, 203, 204, Nakazato Kaizan, 39-40
240, 247; education system, 51, 89, Nanbu Keinosuke, 190
134-36, 138-39; Meiji Restoration Nani ga Kanojo o so Saseta ka, see What
(1868), 7, 20, 51, 257; sacrifices and Made Her Do It?
loss of traditional values, 27, 77, naniwa bushi (traditional storytelling),
78-79, 85-87, 97-99, 243-44, 246, 181, 184, 185, 235
272 Naniwa Freji, see Osaka Flegy
Mokuami, 76 Naniwa Onna, see Woman of Osaka, The
Momijigari, see Maple Viewing Naruse Mikio, 92-93, 133, 139-40, noi
Mori Ogai, 46 194-96, 254, 256, 257
Morishige Hisaya, 142, 191-92 "national policyfilms," 100-4,233-34,
Moritani Shiro, 163 254
Morningwith theOsone Family,A ( Osone-ke Navy (Kaigun), 104
no Asa), 105, 108, 141-42 Negishi Yoshitaro, 262
Most Beautiful, The (Ichiban Utsukushi- Neighbors Wife and Mine, The (Madamu
ku), 28, 121 to Nyobo), 253
Mother (Okasan), 195, 256; pi. 46 Neppu, see Hot Wind
Mother-and-Child Grass (Hahako-gusa), Nessa no Chikai, see Vow in the Desert
141 New Snow (Shinsetsu), 74
mother films {haha mono), 241-42, 256 Nichols, M., 229
Mother Should Be Loved,A (Haha o Kowa- Night and Fogin Japan ( Nihon no Yoru to
zu-ya), 192 Kiri), 177, 218-19, 220, 258
Moyuru Ozora, see Flaming Sky NightDrum (Yoruno Tsuzumi), 114-15;
Mr. Shosuke Ohara (Ohara Shosuke-san), pi. 31
27 Night River (Yoru no Kawa), 91
Mr. Thank You (Arigato-san), 253 Niguruma no Uta, see Song ofthe Cart, The
 o nihilistic period drama films, 38-40 Okada Eiji, 203; pi. 46
d Nikon Kaiho Semen—Sanrizuka no Natsu, Okada Mariko, 231; pi. 24
see Summer in Sanrizuka: The Front Line Okami toButa to Ningen, see Wolves, Pigs
w for the Liberation of Japan and People
H Nihon Kyokaku-den, see Account oftheChiv Okamoto Kihachi, 211, 258, 260
C/3
alrous Commoners of Japan series, An Okasan, see Mother
I—I

:z: Nihon no Higeki, see Japanese Tragedy, A Okasareta Byakui, see Violated Women in
«—I Nihon no Yoru toKiri, see NightandFogin White
> Japan Okochi Denjiro, 19,26,27,39,126,252;
> Nihon Retto, see JapaneseArchipelago, The pis. 3, 10
Nihon Shunka-ko, see Treatise onJapanese Older Brother, Younger Sister (Ani Imoto),
t=^ Bawdy Song, A Kimura's, 253; Naruse's, 92, 133
w Nijushi no Hitomi, see Twenty-four Eyes oldest extant Japanese movie, 15, 249
o
HH
Nikudan, see Human Bullet Old Women of Japan, The (Nippon no
nimaime (second lead), 17-18, 20, 21, Obachan), 171
w 22-24, 27, 34-35, 37, 201, 244-46 Olivier, Sir Laurence, 18
Ningen Johatsu, see Man Vanishes, A One Wonderful Sunday (Subarashiki Nichi-
NingennoJoken, see Human Condition, The yobi), 33, 241
Ningen no Kabe, see Human Wall, The Only Son, The (Hitori Musuko), 132, 138,
Ninjo Kami-fusen, see Humanity andPaper 139, 141, 241, 253; pi. 39
Balloons Only Women Know Sorrow (Kanashimi wa
Nippon Konchuki, see Insect Woman, The Onna dake ni), 81
Nippon Musekinin Jidai, see Age of Irre- onnagata (male actor playing female
spomibility in Japan, The roles), 16, 20-21, 250, 251
Nippon no Oba^an, see Old Women of Onna Keizu, see Genealogy of Women
Japan, The Onna no Sono, see Garden of Women, The
Nippon Sengo Shi: Madamu Omboro no Onoe Kikugoro, 15, 249
Seikatsu, seeHistory ofPostwar Japan as Onoe Matsunosuke, 18-19,39,250,251
Told by a Bar Hostess Opium War, The (Ahen Senso), 102
Nishizumi Senshacho-den, see Story of Tank OppressedStudents, The(Amatsu no Mori),
Commander Nishizumi, The 238
Nobi, see Fires on the Plain Origin of Sex, The (Sei no Kigen), 81
Noda Kogo, 102 Orizuru Osen, see Downfall of Osen, The
NogikunoGotokiKimiNariki, see Ybu Were Osaka Elegy (Naniwa Ereji), 22, 74,
Like a Wild Chrysanthemum 79-80, 90, 162, 172, 182, 183, 184,
Noh, 181, 185, 258 241, 253; pi. 19
Nomura Yoshitaro, 205 Osanai Kaoru, 251
Nora Inu, see Stray Dog Oshima Nagisa, 8, 172, 173, 174,
NoRegretsfor Our Youth ( WagaSeishun ni 176-77, 213-21, 223, 229, 230, 241,
282 KuiNashi),2^, 90, 105, 120, 121-22, 245-46, 258, 260, 261, 267, 268
123, 126-27, 255; pi. 33 Osone-ke noAsa,see Morning withtheOsone
Nozoe Hitomi, 88 Family, A
Nusumareta Yokujo, see Stolen Desire Osugi Sakae, 93-94
Otoko wa Tsuraiyo, see It's Tough ToBea
Oba Hideo, 198 Man series
Occupation (1945-52), see America Ototo, see Her Brother
Ochazukeno Aji,seeFlavorofGreen Teaover Otowa Nobuko, 81; pi. 48
Rice, The Our Neighbor Miss Yae (Tonari no Yae-
Oe Kentaro, 23 chan), 253
Oe Kenzaburo, 220 Ox-Bow Incident, The, 36
Ogawa Shinsuke, 8, 238, 260 Oyuki theMadonna (Maria no Oyuki),\19
Oguri Kohei, 262 Oyu-sama, see Miss Oyu
Ohara Shosuke-san, see Mr. Shosuke Ohara Ozu Yasujiro, 33,34,37,88,89,91,101,
Ohayo, see Good Morning 131,132,133,136,137,138,139,141,
Ohinata Den, 35 142, 178, 185-94, 195, 196, 214,
Oh, Your Love! (Aa Kimi ga Ai), 205-6 221-22, 241, 242, 251, 252-53, 256,
 257 RedBeard (Akahige), 120, 121, 123, 130, H
260 O
pacifism, see anti-war films and atom Red Peony Gambler series. The (Hibotan W
bomb films Bakuto), lb
PaltryRonin Forces His Way Through, The Reijin, see Belle, The
(Suronin Makaritoru), 45-46 Rekishi, see History
Pan Chopali (Arega Minatono Hi DaJ, 171 Repast (Meshi), 256
Pasolini, P., 229 Resnais, Alain, 199, 203
Passing Fancy (Dekigokoro), 33, 131-32, Resurrection, 250
253 Revenge Champion, The (Adauchi Senshu),
Pastoral Hide and Seek (Den'en ni Shisu), 55
261 Revenge Isfor Us (Fukushu Suruwa Ware ni
patriarchy, 126, 129-30, 132-39 AriJ, 246, 262
Pebble bytheWayside, A (Robo noIshi), 254 Rice (Rome), 108, 171
Peerless Patriot (Kokushi Muso), 41 Richardson, Tony, 229
Penn, A., 229 Richie, Donald, 11, 12, 88, 185-86
period drama films, 18,20,21,24,25,26, Ri Koran, see Li Hsian-lan
27,31,38-56,114-15,121,133,162, Rikugun, see Army
186, 234-35, 252, 255, 256-57, 258, Riva, Emmanuele, 203
259, 260 River Fuefuki, The (Fuefukigawa), 258
Perrier, Etienne, 202 River without a Bridge (Hashi no Nai Ka-
Philippe, Gerard, 18 wa), 172
Picture of Madame Yuki, A (Yuki Fujin Robinson Crusoe, 249
Ezu), 183 Robo no Ishi, see Pebble by the Wayside, A
Pigs and Battleships (Buta to Gunkan), Rojo no Reikon, see Souls on the Road
82-83, 259 Ronin-gai, see Street oj Masterless Samurai,
Pleasures oftheFlesh (Etsuraku), 177,220, The
230 Ryu Chishu, 139; pi. 45
Pornographers: Introduction to Anthropolo
gy, The (Jinruigaku Nyumon), 260 Saburi Shin, 35; pi. 4
pornography, 11, 229, 244-46, 261-62 Sada Keiji, 24; pis. 5, 7
ProfoundDesireoftheGods, The( Kamigami Saibankan, see Judge, The
no Fukaki Yokubo), 85-87, 230, 260 Saikaku Ichidai Onna, see Life of Oharu,
ProudChallenge, The (Hokori Takaki Cho The
sen), 164-65; pi. 40 samurai: as heroes, 7, 16-17,18-19,26,
Public Benefactor, A (Kizudarake no San- 27, 28, 37, 38-39, 41, 42, 43, 45-49,
ga), 174, 175 50-51,54, 76,114-15,177,245,254;
Punishment Room (Shokei no Heya), 212, as social class, 16, 17, 50, 134-35
213 Sanjuro (Tsubaki Sanjuro), 28 npo
Sano Shuji, 35
Quiet Duel, The (Shizuka Naru Ketto), SanshiroSugata (SugataSanshiroj, 28,121,
120, 121, 123, 127 126, 130, 255; pi. 3
Sanshiro Sugata,Part 11(ZokuSugataSan
rashamen (Japanese mistress of a West shiro), 105
erner) films, 200-7 Sansho Dayu, see Sansho the Bailiff
Rashomon(Rashomon), 25,29,30,54,121, Sansho theBailiffSansho Dayu), 80, 180,
256; pi. 35 257
realism, 21, 25, 31, 33, 54, 79, 80, 209, Santo Juyaku, see Third-Class Executive
253 Saraba Mosukuwa Curentai, see Farewell to
Realm of the Senses, The (Ai no Koriida), the Gang in Moscow
245-46, 262; pi- 61 Sasa Genju, 252
Record of a Living Being (Ikimono no Sawada Shojiro, 39-40
Kiroku), 120, 121, 123, 129-30, Sawamura Tsutomu, 202
199-200, 257; pi. 50 Sawashima Tadashi, 211
Red Angel, The (Akai Tenshi), 231, 260; Sayonara, 200
pi. 56 Sayuri Ichijo—Moist Desire (Ichijo Sayu-
 o n—Nureta Yokujo), 244, 261 juku Thief
d
Tange and the Pot Worth a Million Shinju Ten no Amijima, see DoubleSuicide
Ryo (Tange Sazen—Hyakuman-ryo no shinkokugeki (new national drama), 39-
w Tsubo), 222 40
H Sazen Tange series (Tange Sazen), 252, Shinku Chitai, see Vacuum Zone
03
259 Shinobi no Mono, see Bandof Assassins, A
Scandal (Sukyandaru), 121 Shinoda Masahiro, 217, 225, 229,
Schlesinger, John, 229 231-32, 260, 261
> Schrader, Paul, 11 Shinsetsu, see New Snow
> Sea of Youth (Seinen no Umi), 238 Shirasaka Yoshio, 211, 213
Season of the Sun ( Taiyo no Kisetsu), 212, ShiroiKyoto, see Great White Tower, The
w
03 213 Shiro Tokisada from Amakusa (Amakusa
t=tj Seinen no Umi, see Sea of Youth Shiro Tokisada), 177, 220
Sei no Kagayaki, see Glow of Life, The Shizuka Nari, see All Is Quiet
Sei no Kigen, see Origin of Sex, The Shizuka Naru Ketto, see Quiet Duel, The
w Seisaku no Tsuma, see Seisaku's Wife Shokei no Heya, see Punishment Room
> Seisaku^s Wife (Seisaku no Tsuma), 21- shomin geki (dramas about common
22, 251; pi. 2 people) films, 185-86, 214, 252-53
Seishunno Ishibumi,sGG: Tombstone to Youth, Shonin no Isu, see Witness Seat, The
A Sho 0Suteyo, Machie Deyo, see Throw Away
Seishun no Satsujinsha, see Young Murderer Your Books, Let's Co into the Streets
Seishun Zankoku Monogatari, see Cruel Shukuzu, see Epitome
Story of Youth Side Canal (Yokoborigawa), 90
Sekai waKyofu Suru, see World Is Terrified, Sisters oftheCion (CionnoShimaij, 22, 25,
The 79, 80, 253
Sekigawa Hideo, 199 Sleeping with a Long Sword (Dakine no
self-education {dokugaku), 265, 269 Nagadosu), 41
Sengo Zankoku Monogatari, see Tale of Sobo, see Many People
Postwar Cruelty, A Socho Tobaku, seeBig-Time Gambling Boss
Senso to Heiwa, see War and Peace social protest films, 122-23, 161-63,
Seppuku, see Harakiri 171-77
series, see under film titles Solitary Travels of Chikuzan, The (Chiku-
Seven Samurai (Shichinin no Samurai), 54, zan Hitori Tabi), 262
120, 257; pi. 36 Sonezaki Shinju, see DoubleSuicide at Sone-
Seventh Heaven, 32 zaki
sex films, 229-33, 236 SongofBwana Toshi, The (Buana Toshino
Shacho shirizu, see Company President series Uta), 209
She and He (Kanojo to Kare), 2\0 Song of the Cart, The (Niguruma no Uta),
Shibuya Minoru, 173-74 175-76, 258, 268; pi. 43
284
Shichinin no Samurai, see Seven Samurai Song of the White Orchid (Byakuran no
Shigeta, James, 202 Uta), 201
Shiiku, see Catch, The Sono Ayako, 205-6
Shimazu Yasujiro, 139-40, 161, 251, Soshun, see Early Spring
252-53 SoshunKochiyama (KochiyamaSoshunJ, 76,
Shimizu Hiroshi, 27, 253, 254, 256 78, 253; pi. 17 '
Shimizu Jirocho, see Jirocho of Shimizu Soshu no Yoru, see Suchow Night
Shimizu Kunio, 210 Souls on the Road (Rojo no Reikon), 25\
Shimogawara Tomo, 190-91 Sound ofthe Mountain ( Yama no Oto), 195
Shimozawa Kan, 42 Spring onLeper's Island (Kojima no Haru),
Shimpa, 20, 22, 78, 250 254
Shimura Takashi, 118, 127; pi. 32 Stepbrothers (Ibo Kyodai), 133, 135, 258;
Shina no Yoru, see China Night pi. 37
Shindo Kaneto, 78, 81, 83, 84, 86, Stolen Desire (Nusumareta Yokujo), 82,83,
198-99, 200, 228, 257, 258, 262 211
shingeki (modern drama), 20, 22 Story from Chikamatsu, A (Chikamatsu
Shinjuku Dorobo Nikki, see Diaryofa Shin- Monogatari), 47
Storyfrom Echigo,A (Echigo TsutsuishiOya Suzuki Shigeyoshi, 253 ^2!
Shirazu), 172 SwarmingEarth, The (Chi no Mure), 174 d
Storyof Floating Weeds, A ( Ukigusa Mono- swordfighting (chambara) films, 11, 40, W
X
gatari), 33 54, 186, 222, 252
Story of Pure Love, A (Junai Monogatari),
108, 171, 199 Tachibana Teijiro, 250
Story of Tank Commander Nishizumi, The TadanobuGoban (Goban Tadanobu), 250
(NishizumiSenshacho-den), 102; pi. 25 Taifu Sodoki, see Uproar over a Typhoon
StoryoftheLast Chrysanthemums, The (Zan- Taiji ga Mitsuryo Suru Toki, see Embryo
giku Monogatari), 182, 184-85, 241, Hunts in Secret, The
254 Taiyo no Hakaba, see Sun's Burial, The
Story of Zatoichi, The (Zatoichi Monogata Taiyo no Kisetsu, see Season of the Sun
ri), 259 TaiyonoNai Machi, see Sunless Street, The
Story Writtenon Water, A (Mizu de Kaka- Taiyo to Bara, see Sun and Rose
reta Monogatari), 98 Takahashi Hideki, 228; pi. 55
Stray Dog (Nora Inu), 29-30, 120-21, Takakura Ken, 244; pi. 59
127 Takamine Hideko, 93; pis. 23, 28, 47
Street of Cupolas, A (Kyupora no Aru Takamine Mieko, 89
Machi), 259 Takamure Itsue, 270, 272-73
Street of Masterless Samurai, The (Ronin- Takechi Tetsuji, 232
gai), 39, 46, 222 Takeda Taijun, 220
Street of Shame (Akasen Chitai), 183, 184 Take-kurabe, see Growing Up
Street of Violence (Boryoku no Machi), Taki Eiko, 2P0
162-63, 175 TakinoShiraito ( Taki noShiraito)
student movement, 53, 172-73, 217- 85, 179; pi. 18
19, 234, 238, 260, 267-68 Tale of Postwar Cruelty, A (SengoZankoku
Subarashiki Nichiyobi, see One Wonderful Monogatari), 232
Sunday Tamura Tsutomu, 220
Suchow Night (Soshu no YoruJ, 201 Tanaka Kinuyo, 24,90,182, 253; pis. 6,
Sugai Ichiro, 23 44
Sugata Sanshiro, see Sanshiro Sugata Tange Sazen, see Sazen Tange series
Sugimura Haruko, 91 TangeSazen—Hyakuman-ryono Tsubo,see
Suicide Troops ofthe Watchtower, The (Boro Sazen Tangeand thePot Wortha Million
no Kesshitai), 105, 109 Ryo
Sukyandaru, see Scandal Tanizaki Junichiro, 251
Summer inSanrizuka: TheFront Linefor the Tasaka Tomotaka, 101, 102, 103-4,
Liberation of Japan (Nihon Kaiho 141,198,202,254
Sensen—Sanrizuka no Natsu), 238, 260 Tatakau Heitai, see Fighting Soldiers
Sun and Rose (Taiyo to Bara), 106 tateyaku ("standing role" or main lead), npp;
Suna no Onna, see Woman in the Dunes 16-17, 18-19,23, 24-30,34-35, 37,
Sun Legend of the Shogunate's Last Days 38, 82, 244
(Bakumatsu Taiyo Den), 258 Teahouse of the August Moon, 200
Sunless Street, The (Taiyo no Nai Machi), television dramas, 26, 37, 90, 91,
175 142-44, 236, 242, 259, 269-71,
Sun over the Kurobe Gorge (Kurobe no Tai 272-73
yo), 170-71, 172, 224 television vs. cinema, 11,37,52,236-38,
Sunrise, 32 260
Sun'sBurial, The ( TaiyonoHakaba), 177, Tengoku to Jigoku, see High and Low
217-18 Te 0 Tsunagu Kora, see ChildrenHand-in-
"sun tribe" (taiyozoku) films, 212-13, Hand
216, 257-58 Terayama Shuji, 261
Suronin Makaritoru, see Paltry RoninForces Teshigawara Hiroshi, 260
His Way Through, The Theater of Life (Jinsei Gekijo), 133
Susukita Rokuhei, 38, 39 There Was a Father (Chichi Ariki), 138,
Suzuki Denmei, 35 141
Suzuki Seijun, 221-29, 246, 260, 262 Third-Class Executive (SantoJuyakuJ, 163
 a This Transient Life (Mujo), 261 Tsurumi Shunsuke, 265-66
d
Three Resurrected Drunkards (Kaette Kita Tsuruta Koji, 53, 164, 165; pi. 14
Yopparai), 177 Tsuzurikata Kyoshitsu, see Composition
w Throne of Blood (Kumonosujo), 29, 258 Class
:z:
H Throw Away Your Books, Let's Go into the Twenty-four Eyes (Nijushi no Hitomi),
{/3
Streets (ShooSuteyo, MachieDeyo),26\ 109-14, 235, 236, 257; pi. 30
Tiger of Malaya, The (Marei no Tora), Twilight in Tokyo (Tokyo Boshoku),
102 137-38
> Toda-ke no Kyodai, sec Brothersand Sisters
> of the Toda Family, The UchidaTomu, 43,54-56,133,162,178,
iz: Toi Ippon no Michi, see Long Single Road 254, 257, 260
w
a» Ahead, The Uehara Ken, 24; pis. 6, 25
W Tokaido Yotsuya Kaidan, see Yotsuya Ghost Ugetsu ( Ugetsu Monogatari),80, 181, 257
Story on the Tokaido, The Ugetsu Monogatari, see Ugetsu
iz: Tokai Kokyogaku, see Metropolitan Sym Ukigumo, see Floating Clouds
w
phony Ukigusa Monogatari, see Story of Floating
> Tokunaga Sunao, 140 Weeds, A
Tokyo Boshoku, see Twilight in Tokyo Ukiyoe-shi—MurasakiZukin, see Woodcut
Tokyo Drifter (Tokyo Nagaremono), 227 Artist
Tokyo Monogatari, see Tokyo Story Uma, see Horse
Tokyo Nagaremono, see Tokyo Drifter- IJmarete wa Mita Keredo, see / Was Born
Tokyo Olympiad (Tokyo Orimpikku), 260 But . . .
Tokyo Orimpikku, see Tokyo Olympiad Umi 0 Wataru Sairei, see Festival Acrossthe
Tokyo Senso Sengo Hiwa,seeMan Who Left Sea
His Will on Film, The Unending Advance (Kagiririaki Zenshin),
Tokyo Story (Tokyo Monogatari), 137, 55
193, 257; pi. 45 Until theDay WeMeetAgain ( Mata Au Hi
Tombstone to Youth, A (Seishun no Ishi- Made), 107, 108, 256
bumi), 220 Uproar over a Typhoon ( Taifu Sodoki),\lb
Tonarino Yae-chan, see OurNeighbor Miss Urabe Kumeko, 21; pi. 2
Yae Urayama Kiriro, 225, 259
Tora noOo Fumu Otokotachi, see Men Who Uryu Tadao, 180, 184
Tread on the Tiger's Tail, The Utsukushisa to Kanashimi to, sec With
Tora-san, see It's Tough To Be 'a Man Beauty and Sorrow
series
Tower of Lilies, The (Himeyuri no To), Vacuum Zone (Shinku Chitai), 175
109, 257; pi. 29 Valentino, Rudolph, 18
Town of Love and Hope, A (Ai to Kibo no Violated Women in White (Okasareta
Machi), 173, 177, 213, 214-15, 216, Byakui), 232, 260; pi. 53
286 220, 241; pi. 52 Violence at Noon (Hakuchu no Torima),
Toyoda Shiro, 254, 257 177, 220-21, 230, 260; pi. 53
Treatise onJapanese Bawdy Song, A ( Nihon Violence Elegy (Kenka Ereji), 228-29,
Shunka-ko), 177, 230, 260 260; pi. 55
Triumph of Wings, A ( Tsubasano Gaika), violence films, 233-35, 236, 237, 262
105 von Sternberg, Josef, 32
Tsubaki Sarijuro, see Sarijuro Vow in theDesert ( Nessa no Chikai), 201,
Tsubasa no Gaika, see Triumph ofWings, A 203, 207
Tsuboi Sakae, 112-13
Tsuchi, see Earth Waga Koi wa Moenu, see My Love Burns
Tsuchimoto Noriaki, 8, 239, 261 Waga Seishun ni Kui Nashi, see NoRegrets
Tsuchi to Heitai, see Mud and Soldiers for Our Youth
Tsuigoineruwaizen, see Zigeurierweisen WakaiHito, see Young People
Tsukiyori no Shisha, see Messengerfromthe VVakamatsu Koji, 229, 232, 260
Moon VVakao Ayako, 90, 231; pi. 56
Tsuma wa Kokuhaku Suru, see WiJ'e Con War and Peace (Senso toHeiwa), 105, 174
fesses, A War at Seafrom Hawaii to Malaya, The
 (Hawaii-Marei Oki Kaisen), 102, 103, Yamagami Itaro, 39
109, 255, 264; pi. 26 Yamaguchi Yoshiko, see Li Hsian-lan O
war films, see "national policy" films Yamamoto Fujiko, 87, 88-89; pi. 21 W
X
Warm Current (Danryu), Masumura's, Yamamoto Kajiro, 102, 254-55
210, 211; Yoshimura's, 89-90, 241, Yamamoto Reizaburo, 133
254 Yamamoto Satsuo, 8, 105, 162, 163,
Warui Yatsu Hodo Yoku Nemuru, see Bad 174-77, 223, 256, 258, 259, 262, 266
Sleep Welly The Yamamoto Shugoro, 120
Wasurerareia Kogun, see Forgotten Imperial Yamamura So, 142
Army, The Yamanaka Sadao, 41, 75-76, 222, 253,
Watari Tetsuya, 227 254
Wayne, John, 18 Yama no Oto, see Sound of the Mountain
WhatIs Your Name? (Kimi noNawa), 24, Yamashita Kosaku, 260
241, 257; pi. 7 Yanagida Kunio, 77
WhatMadeHerDoIt? ( Naniga Kanojo oso Yellow Handkerchieves of Happiness, The
Saseta ka), 253 (Kofuku no Kiiroi Hankachi), 243, 244,
Whole Family Works, The (Hataraku 262
Ikka), 140-41, 195, 254 Yoake mae, see Before Dawn
Wife Confesses, A (Tsuma wa Kokuhaku Yoda Yoshitaka, 80
Suru), 90 Yoidore Hachiman Ki, sec Horde ofDrunken
Wild Youth (Yaju no Seishun), 226 Knights, A
With Beauty and Sorrow (Utsukushisa to Yoidore Tenshi, see Drunken Angel
Kanashimi to), 231-32 Yojimbo (Yojimbo), 29, 259
Witness Seat, The (Shonin no Isu), 163 Yojohan Fusiima no Urabari—Shinobi
Wolves, Pigs and People (Okami to Buta to Hada, see Four-and-a-Half-Mat Room in
Ningen), 165 Back—Soft, Secret Skin, The
Womanfrom theLand ofFire (Hi noKuni no Yokoborigawa, see Side Canal
Onna), 270 Yoru no Kawa, see Night River
Woman in the Dunes (Suna no Onna), 260 Yoru no Onnatachi,see Women of the Night
Woman of Osaka, The ( Naniwa Onna), 90 Yoru no Tsuzumi, see Night Drum
Woman Who TouchedtheLegs, The(Ashini Yosano Akiko, 270
Sawatta Onna), 252 Yoshida Yoshishige, 91, 93-94, 95, 97,
Women of the Night ( Yoru no Onnatachi), 98-99, 217, 229, 231, 241, 259, 261
180, 183, 256 Yoshikawa Eiji, 44
women's liberation movement, seeJap Yoshikawa Mitsuko, 192
anese women's liberation movement Yoshimura Kozaburo, 89, 90, 91,
"women's melodrama" films, 77-78, 102-3, 192, 211, 254, 257
213, 226, 236 Yotsuya Ghost Story, The ( Yotsuya Kaidan),
Woodcut Artist (Ukiyoe-shi—Murasaki 46
Zukin), 38-39 Yotsuya Ghost Story on the Tokaido, The 287
World Is Terrified, The (Sekai wa Kyofu ( Tokaido Yotsuya Kaidan), 258
Suru), 199 Yotsuya Kaidan, see Yotsuya Ghost Story,
The
Yabure-daiko, see Broken Drum Young Murderer (Seishun no Satsujinsha),
Vagi Yasutaro, 108 262
Yaju no Seishun, see Wild Youth Young People (Wakai Hito), 74
yakuza (gangster) films; about feudal youth films [seishun eiga), 210, 219
outlaws and "wandering gamblers" You Were Like a Wild Chrysanthemum
{matatabi mono), 41-42, 49-51; in (Nogiku no Gotoki Kimi Nariki), 257
modern settings, 51-56, 75, 165, 226, Yuki Fujin Ezu, see Picture of Madame
227, 229, 234-35, 237, 242-43, 244, Yuki, A
259, 260, 261 Yumi Kaoru, 87
Yamabiko Gakko, see Echo School
Yamada Isuzu, 90; pi. 19 Zangiku Monogatari, see Story of the Last
Yamada Waka, 270 Chrysanthemums, The
Yamada Yoji, 243, 244, 261, 262 Zatoichi Monogatari, see Storyof Zatoichi,
 g The Zoku Shinobi no Mono^ see Band of As-
^ Zigeunerweisen (Tsuigoineruwaizen)^2A^y sassins, II, A
^ 262; pi. 62 Zoku Sugata Sanshiro, seeSanshiro Sugata,
^ Zigomar the Eelskin, 250 Part II
H
03

>
>
§
W

288
Tadao Sato was born in Niigata, Japan, in 1930
and published his first book, Nihon no eiga {Japa
nese Film) in 1956. Since then he has written over
sixty others and has also served as editor-in-chief
of the film magazines Eiga hyoron and Shiso no
kagaku. From 1968 he has been chairman of the
Japan Film Pen Club, whose members include
leading Japanese film critics, television pro
ducers, and magazine editors. He is on the ad
ministration of the Tokyo National Museum of
Modern Art Film Center, a director of the Japan
Film Library Council, and a member of The
Japan Foundation's film committee. He has ap
peared as film commentator for NHK television
and his essays have been translated in noted film
magazines such as Sight and Sound and Cahiers du
cinema.

Gregory Barrett was born in Chicago and

received his M.A. in Asian Studies from the
University of California in Berkeley. In 1976 he
worked on a project sponsored by the U.S.
Office of Education that uses video tapes of
Japanese television programs for intermediate
language teaching at several universities in
America. He now lives in Tokyo, where he
researches Japanese film and teaches English for
the School of Intercultural Communication at
the International Education Center in Yotsuya.

Jacket design: T. Miyashita

HI 78 Printed in Japan
 Sato

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"With this book, Japanese cinema

is seen, for the first time in English,
as it appears to the Japanese...
as it appears to Tadao Sato,
Japan's single finest film critic." m
DONALD RICHIE CT)
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rsBN j-a?oa,i-flis-3
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ISBN4-7700-1315-9 C0074 ¥2200E (i n