Showing posts with label Akira Kurosawa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Akira Kurosawa. Show all posts

Friday, 23 May 2025

Sixty Years of Art Cinema 1960-2020 : Bruce Hodsdon continues his series - Asia - 6 (42) Japan - Part one

 


6 (42) Japan

Akira Kurosawa (66) b.10, Keisuke Kinoshita b.12, Kon Ichikawa (70) b.15, Masaki Kobayashi (77) b.16, Kirirō Urayama b.30   

New Wave:  Seijun Suzuki b.23, Yasuzo Masamura b.24, Shōhei Imamura b.26 Hiroshi Teshigahara b.27, Kaneto Shindo b.28Susumu Hani b.28, Masahiro Shinoda.b.31, Nagisa Oshima (71) b.32, Toshio Matsumoto b.32, Yoshishige Yoshida b.33   Figure in parenthesis  indicates year nominated as one of International Film Guide’s ‘5 Directors of the Year’  

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Part 1 : Political modernism and the New Wave:         

Audie Bock's classification of periods in Japanese cinema was taken up and further explicated by David Desser in 1988 to describe the ideological purpose of his introduction to the New Wave, as conceived and written. It “is to try and bring historical specificity to Japanese New Wave cinema and to place it within the wider discourses of historical, political, social, and cultural studies” without claiming it to necessarily be “the best and only way to study the Japanese New Wave movement” (p 2).  

Yasujiro Ozu

Three periods are identified. The first period from 1930, and the period leading up to it, Desser identifies as the classical paradigm, best exemplified by Ozu and the more diverse oeuvre of Mizoguchi. From 1945-60 is the modern period with Kurosawa the paradigmatic modern director “the dynamism [of whose]  method of storytelling through images [had] always gone hand in hand with a humanist treatment of his subjects” (Komatsu 716). From  around 1960 to the early 70s is the modernist paradigm with Oshima the paradigmatic director.

“The terms classical, modern, and modernist need to be associated with their ideological underpinning. The classical paradigm is linked to the classical arts of Japan and subscribes to a “transcendental” schema. The 50s modern paradigm, postwar humanism and individualism exemplified by Kurosawa, had its roots in the theatrical mode of Shingeki (see below) and individualism.  The modernist includes a “metahistorical” model.” (16).  The salient features of each paradigm are set out below, summarised in tabular form, based on Desser’s outline (pp 15-22) “that throughout the course of Japan’s long history, the culture did experience significant shifts under the impetus of various forces; and that the New Wave movement in cinema, itself part of a larger cultural movement, represents one such shift” (15).

 Classical      chronological/episodic/cyclical/mythic/transcendental/Ozu   

 Modern:        chronological/causal/linear/historical/individual/Kurosawa

 Modernist:     achronological/episodic/acausal/anti-mythic/metahistorical/anti-psychological/Oshima                                                                                               

Akira Kurosawa

It should be noted that in adopting Bock’s classification periods David Desser (pp15-24) acknowledges that he also uses terms adopted from David Bordwell's book 'Narration in the Fiction Film' (see ‘forms of narration’ in part 4 of the introductory essays) in what he identifies as the four major modes of narration. Desser replaces Bock's “the early masters” with “classical” and Bock’s “the post-war period” with the “modern” paradigm, the New Wave becomes “modernist” but as modes they do not correspond to Bordwell's “transcending genres, schools, movements and entire national cinemas.”  Except in name, in this instance, Desser puts Bordwell's modal specifications aside not in disagreement but to consider the Japanese cinema as part of a system: self-contained modes isolatable across Japanese film history, at least from the late 1920s through to the 70s. His stated intention is to demonstrate how Japanese cinema connects with Japanese culture.  

The classical nature of Ozu's narrative style can be linked to many of the classical arts of Japan. Following Desser's schema, in the shift from the classical to the modern paradigm, is a shift in the attitude to the status quo. From acceptance of life's problems we find the emergence of the individual who fights against his circumstances, in short, the emergence of bourgeois individualism from which follows causal, linear and historical thinking in constructing a narrative. This is the Hollywood mode. In Japan, however, post-war humanism and individualism had its roots planted by the theatrical mode of Shingeki, meaning “new theatre,” which originated in the Meiji period (1868-1912) as part of an overall attempt to “modernise” Japan. Inspired by the plays of Ibsen et al, theatrical troupes, instrumental in fostering a new theatre, modelled themselves on the European naturalist theatre of psychological realism and representationalism. The late twenties saw the rise of a left-wing, socially conscious theatre within Shingeki which had a profound influence on cinema through tendency films (keiko eiga), part of the overall move to greater representationalism and psychologism (condensed from Desser pp15-24).

Desser concludes that since traditional Japanese art is already formally subversive, a genuinely radical, political art must move beyond the kind of radical content apparent in the pre-war left-wing socially conscious “tendency” films or the postwar humanist left-wing cinema of Kurosawa, Kobayashi, Ichikawa, Kinoshita et al. In the theatre there was also an attempted radicalisation of forms which had much in common with the New Wave cinema's rejection of humanism and old-left Communism.

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Shohei Imamura

In 1961, following the bankruptcy of Shin Toho which had produced only sensationalist films for a limited market, there were five major film companies in Japan: Nikkatsu, Daiei, Toho, Toei, and Shochiku,.  Fifties classics had been produced by Daiei, such as Kurosawa's 
Rashomon, Yoshimura's Night River (1956), Mizoguchi's Ugetsu Monogatari (1953), Kinugasa's Gate of Hell, Naruse's Lightning (1952) and Ichikawa's Fires on the Plain (1959). Toei had been attracting audiences since 1957 with rapidly produced genre films such as jidigeki  (period drama) on the widescreen, to become by 1960 the most profitable film company. Toei also produced artistic films directed by masters from the pre-war era like Daisuki Ito and Tomu Uchida but did not offer places for new young talent. The same was true of Toho where pre-war directors like Mikio Naruse and Shiro Toyoda were employed but young directors were not offered the same scope to further their careers.

Shohei Imamura joined the then re-established Nikkatsu in1954 to produce his early 'black comedies' which appealed to the younger market. Kiriō Urayama, who had earlier been Imamura’s assistant, directed realistic films with a social message at Nikkatsu that differed from Nikkatsu’s stereotyped genre films in that they contained political elements. Both Imamura and Urayama developed a metaphysical quality in their films culminating in subjective hallucinatory shots in Urayama’s last film, scripted by Imamura, The Girl I Abandoned (Watusi ga suteta mona 1969) was too abstract for Nikkatsu’s executives. After making Intentions of Murder (Aka satsui), in 1963 Imamura left to found his own company.  Nikkatsu which had tried to establish a new genre aimed at the younger generation in the 50s, increasingly maintained its viability through the 60s with soft core pornography, Toei with gangster films.  

Seijun Suzuki

Seijun
 Suzuki (1923-2017) who had made a series of eccentric yakuza and “pink” genre movies at Nikkatsu between 1956-63, turned to adapting novels with the increasing complexity of his “Brechtianism” standing just to the side of the New Wave in beginning to really assert Suzuki’s own voice in a “wonderfully eccentric work of art.” Fighting Elegy / a.k.a. The Born Fighter and Kenka Ereji (1966) is a perversely comic condemnation of the way war robbed young people of their youth, a script by Kaneto Shindo based on a novel by Takashi Suzuki. Gate of Flesh / Nikutai no Mon (1964) based on a best selling novel by Taijiro Tamara that sparked off an entire genre of fiction, the film’s dialectic between social realism and a lurid phantasmagoria of nightmare, “so powerful, so Bunuelian” (Rayns). Suzuki’s “last word on the yakuza genre” Branded to Kill / Kuroshi no Rakun (1967) drew company executive accusation of “incomprehensibility to the public” leading to Suzuki’s forced break with Nikkatsu in 1968.

At Shochiku, the most conservative of the companies, before his death in 1963, Ozu directed a film each year but otherwise only Keisuke Kinoshita was given any autonomy and even that was limited. The studio executives’ conservatism prevented them from exploiting new genres like Nikkatsu and Toei. Faced with declining box office in 1960 as a result of the effect of television, however, they changed their policy. Young directors were given the opportunity to make the films they wanted with a degree of freedom. They were termed ”the Ofuna new wave” after the studio where the young directors - Oshima, Yoshida and Shinoda - were located.

Oshima's first “Ofuna film,” Cruel Story of Youth (1960), was a success but he left Shochiku when the company withdrew Night and Fog in Japan (1960) from circulation after four days in release.  Oshima set the trend for independent production by establishing his own production company Sozosha (Creation) which did not start producing films until the mid sixties at the time Yoshida and Shinoda left Shochiku. The films they directed with the “Ofuna flavour” focusing on the lives and problems of their own generation, failed to generate sufficient box office returns. Shochiku survived with the phenomenally successful Tora-san series 1969-97 directed by Yoji Yamada, and also from the distribution of anime.

During the 1950s most independent companies had been organised by groups with socialist sympathies. Directors like Tadashi Imai and Satsuo Yamamoto produced films with a political message.  The independent sector then, was not interested in the development of film form and could not be considered avant-garde. However, in the 1960s the situation changed. New independent companies began to be established to produce films that could not be made by the major studios but were primarily concerned with extending the boundaries of Japanese filming and not just with political messages from a specific party. Out of such newly founded independent companies the so-called New Wave was born.                                                                                                                              Hiroshi Komatsu  (714)

Yasuzo Masumura

“Leaving behind the universal humanism of the earlier decade what [the New Wave filmmakers] sought was to make a different kind of film that was only for the Japanese.” Desser notes that the most immediate influence was the debut film of 
Yasuzo Masumura (1924-86), Kisses (1957), in which the youthful hero is from the masses, poor, alienated and angry, seeking immediate thrills. Masumura achieves a freshness of style through location shooting and hand-held camerawork anticipating the first features of the French New Wave. Of the film, Oshima said he “felt that the tide of a new age could no longer be ignored by anyone.” (42-3)

David Desser defines the Japanese New Wave as “films produced and/or released in the wake of  Oshima’s  Ai to kinono machi/ A Town of Love and Hope (1959), films which take an overtly political stance in a general way or toward a specific issue, utilising a deliberately disjunctive form compared to previous filmic norms in Japan” ( 4). Desser takes up the term “ avant-garde  movement” as defined by Renato Poggioli in ‘The Theory of the Avant-Garde’ (1968) as ”being constituted primarily to obtain a positive result, for a concrete end” (25 quoted Desser), or at least “concerned with creating a film content and form capable of revealing the contradictions within Japanese society and with isolating the culture’s increasingly materialist values and its imperialist alliances […] The avant-garde component [is] in the vanguard of a new social movement…utilizing artistic strategies of a new and challenging nature.” This is “within the context of a relatively liberal, mostly censorship - free society” (4). Desser adds that “the notion that the New Wave is a movement is important in defining it against the idea of being a school which was implicitly rejected by the ideology of the New Wave, quoting Poggioli that, “the [term] school presupposes a master and a method, the criterion of tradition and the principle of authority […] pre-eminently stoic and classical, while the movement is essentially dynamic and romantic” (20 quoted Desser 5).   

Nagisa Oshima

The assumption that an avant-garde artistic movement 
already has a political dimension was, Desser suggests, as crucial to the Japanese New Wave as it had been to the Russian Revolutionary cinema of the 1920s, the theatrical theories of Bertolt Brecht, and the French ‘nouvelle vague’, especially after 1968, with Godard entering the “Dziga-Vertov” collectiveDesser shares Poggioli’s basic mistrust of the facile equation of formal radicalism being equal to political radicalism. Oshima insisted that he did not make political films but films on political subjects, free of ideology; the style depends on the theme, always trying to deny the style used in the previous film.

The radical individualism of the New Wave filmmakers was not a bourgeois individualism which posited a transcendental subject outside culture; rather it was the assertion of a will already formed by culture struggling with that culture. The form of rebellion this assertion of will took was often “spectacular,” a rebellion in the realm of spectacle, most typically in the realm of sexuality.                                                                                                                                 David Desser (p.77)

Saturday, 7 September 2024

CINEMA REBORN - SEPTEMBER NEWSLETTER - Dates for 2025, Committee Membership, Kurosawa retro, Venice Classics, Noir in Brisbane, Japanese Exhibition

 


September Newsletter


Dates for 2025

In case you need to make a diary entry, Cinema Reborn 2025 takes place at the Randwick Ritz from 30 April to 6 May and the Hawthorn Lido from 8 to 13 May. Programme announcements from early in the New Year and full programme published in mid-March.


Cinema Reborn Organising Committee Membership

Following our very successful 2024 season, which included our first presentation in Melbourne, Cinema Reborn’s Organising Committee has undergone some changes. Foundation members Rod Bishop and Quentin Turnour have now stepped down. Rod and Quentin devoted an extraordinary amount of time to our project and whatever success we may have had over the years owes much to the contribution each made. Our grateful thanks go to both and we look forward to seeing them at our 2025 screenings.


Moving along the Cinema Reborn Organising Committee has now been joined by two young cinephiles from Melbourne, Grace Boschetti and Digby Houghton.


Grace is a Naarm/Melbourne based writer on film. Her work has appeared in a number of publications including Metro, Senses of Cinema and Rough Cut


Digby is a film critic, screenwriter and programmer from Melbourne. He is interested in the intersection between history and film and completed his Honours thesis on late1970s Australian cinema in 2022. He is also the co- creator and co-editor of the website and weekly newsletter Kinotopia. You can subscribe to his newsletter if you click on https://kinotopia.com.au/


Grace and Digby (both pictured below) are our first Melbourne-based Committee Members and they bring serious enthusiasm and substantial film knowledge to our work. We welcome them and look forward to their contributions.


Akira Kurosawa Retrospective at the Ritz, Lido and Classic Cinemas

The cinema management is calling Kurosawa “the most influential film-maker of the cinema’s first century”which might be a stretch in a century which produced Chaplin, Welles, Ford,Renoir, Ophuls, Bergman, Lang, Bunuel and Rossellini but OK …a season featuring SEVEN SAMURAI, IKIRU, YOJIMBO, SANJURO, RED BEARD, THRONE OF BLOOD, THE HIDDEN FORTRESS, RASHOMON and HIGH  AND LOW makes a strong case… Starts in October and runs weekly through to December. Check the various cinemas’ websites for session times and bookings.


Venice Classics

Last year’s Venice Classics selection rediscovered Terrence Malick’s majestic DAYS OF HEAVEN, our leading crowd puller for Cinema Reborn’s 2024 season. Here’s what is on the agenda for this year’s event which is taking place right now. https://www.labiennale.org/en/cinema/2024/venice-classics


Noir November in Brisbane

Stalwart Cinema Reborn supporter Joel Archer has announced details of his annual season of classic film noir. It’s on from 15-17 November at Brisbane’s Palace Cinemas in James Street and the Newstead Brewery in Milton.  Ten films in all, opening with Jules Dassin’s classic BRUTE FORCE  from 1947. Titles, tickets and session times https://www.stickytickets.com.au/4aq5d/noir_november_class_of_47_brisbanes_3rd_annual_film_noir_festival.aspx


At the Japan Foundation in Sydney

Explore the history of movie theatres in the city of Yamaguchi, Japan, with The Japan Foundation, Sydney’s upcoming exhibition Afternote: In the Shade of Cinema Together with records and materials related to the city's cinemas, the display includes the latest work by contemporary Japanese artist Nobuhiro Shimura, a 79-minute documentary also titled Afternote  which was commissioned by YCAM, the Yamaguchi Center for Arts and Media. By unearthing the memories of local residents and what the cinema meant to them, Afternote reminisces on the days when movie theatres were considered the cultural centre, a part of daily life and the cityscape.⁠


'Afternote: In the Shade of Cinema' will be on display in the Japan Foundation Gallery  at Level 4, Central Park, Broadway, from September 13, 2024 to March 1, 2025. Find out more: https://sydney.jpf.go.jp/afternote/


Monday, 20 March 2023

The Current Cinema - Some thoughts on LIVING (Oliver Hermanus, UK, 2022) and a backward glance at IKIRU (Kurosawa Akira, Japan, 1952)

Bill Nighy, Living

I think I’ve only been provoked to write this by the Sight & Sound review I mention below.
 

As I said on Facebook LIVING....an odd movie if ever there were…  and I went on to say  it made me dig out a copy of Kurosawa's film Ikiru  from 1952 which as I recall from my youth was in a MUFS season in the 60s. Then, I found its near two and half hours hard going... but that was back then... and that was the only time I’ve ever seen it until last night.

 

In between the two viewings of the old and the new, the Sight & Sound review of the new version came to hand and in big type there is “This is a dangerously audacious undertaking, but Oliver Hermanus and Kazuo Ishiguro have brought it off” according to Philip Kemp. He goes on “Ishiguro’s script closely follows the shape and tone” and concludes “Living offers a rare example of the remake of a masterpiece that can stand with the original.” So much there but I’m not sure I’d ever class a remake of anything as “dangerously audacious”. Maybe a remake of Satantango...

 

I’m still not all in the group who think the original is a masterpiece. Still not sure that a dull, risk averse, as they say today but whatever, very ordered and dull life that suddenly explodes into commitment and action is totally convincing but that’s the story. All 2 hours and 23 minutes of it.


Shimura Takashi, Ikiru

Kurosawa’s film is set in the then present, and thus in the medical environment of the day. A cancer diagnosis likely meant an inevitable if slow death. “A long illness” the obits used to say. The new version thus decides to take us back to 50s London with all its social repression and paper-filled offices echoing Kurosawa’s original. The new one also decides to be upbeat by introducing a side story romance. The new one is all about getting the colours right, the drabness in the art design of office and home. You can feel superior because things are so much better today.  So we compare and contrast a film about the day and a film which dips, maybe even wallows, in nostalgia.

 

And as I also said I'm not at all sure that Bill Nighy's one note raspy whisper is that effective beyond the mannerism. It’s a good trope when he plays people who can convey a mountain of information with an ironic gesture, a raised eyebrow. Like he did in the Johnny Worricker trilogy of spy stories written by David Hare. (That’s the other David Hare from the northern hemisphere). As I also also  said I  found Adrian Rawlins (there's a name to conjure with, a Melbourne reference unless you’ve seen Philip Noyce’s Castor and Pollux) to be a much more authentic grump and someone who  got deep into his misanthropic part. 


That's all...

Sunday, 3 July 2022

Sydney Film Festival - Janice Tong's Filmic Postcard (Part Two) - THE WORLD OF APU/APUR SANSAR ( Satyajit Ray, India, 1959)

Soumitra Chatterjee as Apu and Sharmila Tagore as
Aparna, The World of Apu


What defines great cinema? Perhaps this question can be answered very simply: the universality of a good film is one that provokes a kind of emotional charge and renders the person watching the film affected by its contents; whilst a great film transcends that emotive response and transforms it to one of wonder, as though one has been touched by something sublime.

 

This is what Akira Kurosawa said about Satyajit Ray’s films back in 1975:

 

The quiet but deep observation, understanding and love of the human race, which are characteristic of all his films, have impressed me greatly. … I feel that he is a “giant” of the movie industry. Not to have seen the cinema of Ray means existing in the world without seeing the sun or the moon. I can never forget the excitement in my mind after seeing it (Pather Panchali). It is the kind of cinema that flows with the serenity and nobility of a big river. People are born, live out their lives, and then accept their deaths. Without the least effort and without any sudden jerks, Ray paints his picture, but its effect on the audience is to stir up deep passions. How does he achieve this? There is nothing irrelevant or haphazard in his cinematographic technique. In that lies the secret of its excellence.*

 

Ray and Akira Kurosawa

The World of Apu is a world that seems so removed from where I was sitting, in a comfortable viewing chair at the Art Gallery of NSW’s subterranean theatre amongst the 80 or so patrons at Satyajit Ray’s retrospective of the Sydney Film Festival 2022. And yet… so much of what comes alive on the luminous screen bears a resemblance to a life I am deeply invested in, I cannot look away, the simplicity and above all, the beauty in the way Apu and his new bride, Aparna, fan each other as they’re eating, renders their love palpable and alive. This is real cinema. The artistry and magic makes the many scenes in this film deeply spellbinding – it is as though I am seeing the moon for the first time and can do little but be bewitched by its allure.

 

In addition to this, I was profoundly moved to read that this restoration made possible by the collaboration (and I’m sure love and meticulous work) of Janus Films, the Harvard Film ArchiveBFI and the Academy, that we are able to see this film at all…there was a fire in the studio where they were restoring ‘The Apu Trilogy’ back in 1993 and the original negatives were badly burnt and deemed unsalvageable. It wasn’t until 2013 before technology had improved to a stage where they were able to work with the damaged materials, using a solution to rehydrate what remained and then repair the film frame by frame with negatives from other archives around the world. This proved to be a successful andworthy cause, and for that, we must say our deepest thanks.

 

The World of Apu is the last of the trilogy: Apu is now in his early twenties, idealistic and sincere; he is happy with his impoverished existence, even if he has to sell his beloved books to pay the long overdue rent. Satyajit Ray’s world is an amorphous one where lives bleed into each other; driven by a new world that embraces progress – carried through by the metaphor of the train as it charges through the landscape without remorse or consideration (it runs over a pig, which could very well have been a person). As with all new enterprises, the only way is forward, and the speed of this arrow has a specific aim and is a little joyless.  All this is set against the backdrop of Subrata Mitra’s starkly photographed landscapes; desolate stretches, bare railway tracks, a few roaming animals, the rubble and fragments around a crumbling old world.  And yet, set in the foreground, are clusters of hope formed in the accumulation of the many byways of crisscrossing relationships. Ray situates us in this intimate world made up of friendships and family; whose bonds cannot be broken even if one is years or miles apart from each other.  We find that our philosophy of life shows us the way through an advancing wilderness.

 

Landscapes in a modern wilderness..."bare railway tracks"
The World of Apu

In this world, in Apu’s world, the screech of the train is unbearable, Aparna also reacts by blocking her ears with her hands and shutting her eyes to block out its presence. The human condition, on the other hand, is highly prized. Apu’s naive view of the world is counter-balanced by his act of ‘self-sacrifice’, saving Aparna’s honour by marrying her; and Aparna in return makes a home of his one room bachelor flat, gifting him her tenderness and her wonderful presence. They make each other. 

 

It’s incredible to think that both leads are played by non-actors (as with the roles of Pulu and Kamal) and for both actors, this is their first film. Soumitra Chatterjee as Apu made a career of it, as he went on to make more than 300 films, and Sharmila Tagore as Aparna (only fourteen years old at the time) has an incredible on-screen presence; she is related to the Bengali poet and philosopher Rabindranath Tagore. There’s something magical captured on screen between Apu and Aparna, something that is entirely human and totally believable. You find yourself falling in love with them. It can be said that Apu is likened to Krishna, he plays the flute, he is filled with humanity and humility, with doubts and downfalls too, his love of learning, of life and for his wife; he is a beacon to our current shipwrecked shores, against war, greed and impatience. Watching this film, one yearns for a simpler life, free from materiality, perhaps more rightly, a return to authenticity. But what the film teaches us is perhaps that there can still be freedom within the responsibilities one is prepared to take in life. 

 

Ray (r) and Ravi Shankar (centre)

Lastly, the music, it is a character of its own right in the film, haunting and graceful, other worldly and emotively stirring…Ravi Shankar first worked with Ray in late 1954 (the two had known each other for ten years at that stage) when he composed the music to the first film of the Apu trilogy, Pather Panchali. Composed and recorded in a single session through the night until 4am to selected scenes that Ray projected for him. For that film, Shankar used traditional Indian instruments including the tarshehnai, the bhimraj, and the sarod, as well as the pakhwajfor percussion and a flute; and bestowed Ray with such a vast array of music of varying tonal qualities that Ray reshot a new scene (the dance of the water bugs) just to showcase Shankar’s music. With The World of ApuShankar had more time to devote to the film, and even brought in western instruments, including the piano, violins and cellos during the three day recording session.Shankar, already a huge star in India, became a superstar around the world after his now legendary set at the Monterey Pop Festival back in 1967. The Guardian in 2007 named The 50 greatest film soundtracks of all time and placed Shankar’s Pather Panchali at number four on this list.

 

 

*Kurosawa’s quote was from Ryan Lattanzio’s piece in Indiewire

 

#sydneyfilmfestivaltook place 8th-19th June 2022.

 

#filmfestivaleveryday#filmoftheday#jandnfilmfestival