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Film: The Burmese Harp
Release date: 21st February 2011
Certificate: 12
Running time: 117 mins
Director: Kon Ichikawa
Starring: Rentarô Mikuni, Shôji Yasui, Jun Hamamura, Taketoshi Naitô, Shunji Kasuga
Genre: Drama/War
Studio: Eureka!
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
Based on the bestselling book of the same name, The Burmese Harp is the story of one Japanese army unit’s experiences at the tail end of the Second World War, retreating through war torn Burma. The film was the first of director Ichikawa’s works to be shown internationally, garnering an Oscar nomination and awards from the Venice Film Festival. The film gave Western audiences one of the earliest depictions of the Second World War from the point of view of the Japanese forces.
The soldiers make their appearance in the film picking their way through South East Asian jungle, a familiar war film motif which swiftly develops into something atypical, as the soldiers are led by their captain in a sentimental song of home, with one soldier accompanying them on a Burmese harp. The narrator, one of the unit’s soldiers, explains that “we often sang...these songs lifted our spirits in times of sorrow and pain”.
The company’s attempt to retreat across the border from Burma to Thailand is curtailed by an encounter with the British army, when they discover that the Japanese war command have surrendered and the war is at an end. Taken prisoner by the British, they are told that they will be taken 200 miles south to a POW camp, to await transport back to Japan. But one of the soldiers will be making this journey alone.
Mizushima is asked by the British to help them persuade another Japanese unit who are holding out in a mountain stronghold to surrender. Here he encounters the Japanese code of honour that is familiar from many war movies – that surrender is shameful and, when faced with capture, death is the only acceptable recourse.
Unable to dissuade the soldiers from their imminent destruction, Mizushima nevertheless manages to survive the British attack. A Buddhist monk offers him food and shelter, but Mizushima is keen to rejoin his comrades and steals the monk’s cloak in order to adopt a safe disguise for the long and lonely journey south. The journey is a physical ordeal as, close to starvation and with bleeding feet, he traverses harsh landscapes under the sun’s unremitting glare. But the journey’s emotional impact is even more harrowing. Over and over, Mizushima encounters the slain bodies of his countrymen, left in the open air to rot and be picked over by birds of prey. The experience causes him to undergo a profound change.
Among his friends at the camp, Mizushima achieves a semi-mythical status, as they fret over the possibility of his survival and catch unconfirmed glimpses of him in the vicinity of the camp. Mizushima reaches his physical destination, but a spiritual chasm has opened between his former and present life, and the film’s purpose is to illustrate how this comes about, and the manner in which Mizushima feels he must resolve it…
The Burmese Harp is a curiously unwarlike war film, with various factors contributing to this. The film’s music plays a major part. Cutting into the film almost from the very start, its music instils a tone of mournful reflection which immediately signposts that contemplation rather than action is paramount to the film’s message. The Burmese Harp was overdubbed with a western pedal harp, while the choral harmonies of the Japanese soldiers are reminiscent of a Welsh male voice choir, giving a curiously European feel to the music. The soldiers repeatedly sing Home Sweet Home, a song which makes explicit the nostalgic significance of music for the soldiers. Far from belligerent, they are disarmed by a melancholic yearning for the simple, lost pleasures of a long disappeared past.
Another aspect of the film which imparts it with a philosophical quality is the way director Ichikawa composes his shots. Perhaps betraying his original background as an artist rather than a director, the light and almost metaphorical anguish of the subject matter of some scenes suggest the devastation of battle as painted by Delacroix or Picasso. The figures of the strangers Mizushima encounters on his journey seem tiny against the monumental landscapes he crosses. When he reaches the shore of a vast river, you could believe him to be at the edge of the river Styx or Jordan, so otherworldly does this landscape appear. Ichikawa frequently frames his shots so that they alternate between the whole group of soldiers and a sudden focus upon a single face, a technique which conveys an impression of how war is experienced by the soldiers both as a collective unit and on a more human, individual level.
Most of the action of The Burmese Harp was filmed in Japan, with only the crew and the lead actor, Shôji Yasui, travelling to Burma to film a limited number of scenes. The Burmese location appears to most powerfully affect towards the end of the film, as Mizushima stands solemnly in his monk’s robe by the worn stones of an ancient stupa, mist drifting among the smoky leafiness of the surrounding trees. For the film to be at all convincing, Ichikawa needed to cast someone in the part of Mizushima who would be believable both as a soldier and as a sensitive man undergoing a profound spiritual crisis. Yasui possesses that quality, which the director identified in Javier Bardem, the lead actor of his film Biutiful, of a “profound and complex inner life.” This quality makes Yasui fascinating to watch, so that the absence of action – and the film does make slow-moving progress – is compensated by the fascination of trying to discern and interpret the inner struggle that Yasui subtly portrays.
Among all this solemnity and emotional longing, the film is lightened by some comic scenes featuring an old Burmese lady who visits the camp to trade goods with the soldiers, providing a link between them and the outside world. These more humorous scenes heighten our awareness of the divide between Mizushima and his comrades, and make his story all the more dramatic in contrast to the more everyday experience of his friends.
The Burmese Harp delivers its pacifist message through the medium of gentle reflection rather than the shock and blood tactics of Oliver Stone or other Vietnam film directors. With modern hindsight, it may seem to skirt the realities of the Japanese campaign in Burma, but there was still relatively little awareness of this at the time of the film was made. Its perspective is humanistic rather than nationalistic, and its images continue to haunt long after the closing credits. KR
Film: Profound Desires Of The Gods
Release date: 21st February 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 173 mins
Director: Shôhei Imamura
Starring: Rentarô Mikuni, Choichiro Kawarazaki, Kazuo Kitamura, Hideko Okiyama, Yoshi Katô
Genre: Drama
Studio: Eureka!
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
With the death of the much-celebrated Shohei Imamura in 2006 came the legacy of a man whose career spanned several decades. Unparalleled success in his homeland has failed to transpire abroad, largely due to distribution issues, and in keeping with this, one of his most ambitious projects, Profound Desire Of The Gods, has only recently become available on DVD and Blu-ray. Despite poor box-office performance at the time of its initial release, Imamura’s visionary work has enjoyed belated praise.
Profound Desires Of The Gods investigates a number of societal polar opposites – traditions versus modernity, mythology versus science, man versus machine. When Kariya, an engineer from Tokyo travels to a remote island to supervise the creation of a well, he encounters a mini-society in revolt.
The interbred Futori family maintains a mythical belief that their island was created as a result of the love and sexual union of a brother and sister. Labelled as ‘beasts’, and vilified by the more progressive islanders, the family’s history is both complex and disturbing. Yamamori is one of the oldest members, and his daughter, Toriko, is also his granddaughter, drawing a parallel between the make-up of their family and the origins of the islands founders and creators.
The main shrine on the island is kept hidden from the majority of the islanders, as it contains the only fresh water source, resulting in drought. The god-fearing inhabitants put this down to the Futori family and their violation of taboos, leading to further conflict. Kariya finds himself embroiled in the local conflict, and the wheels are set in motion for an epic story, which has become legendary in Japanese cinema.
Investigating the damaging effects of modernity and globalisation, Imamura sheds light on some of the origins of Japaneseness, exploring the corruption of innocence, and whether or not innocence itself is subject to corruption in its conception...
Imamura’s initial intention was to spend just six months filming. As legend has it, this became eighteen, as he found himself seduced by the natural beauty of the island and adapting to life away from the city. In keeping with this, the film opens with spontaneous shots of nature demonstrating the vitality of the island; full of colour and wonderment, these opening scenes give perhaps further insight into the profound effects the island had on Imamura. As one might expect, the visuals are particularly awe-inspiring, and the film is indeed littered with shots of the various species.
The main character, Kariya, also finds himself encapsulated by the earthly charms of island life, but not before some entertaining episodes as he combats ants and geckos during his first few days. Soon, however, the seductive charms of the female members of the Futori family begin to take effect.
With each scene we are able to unlock the intriguing fundamental truths about Japaneseness, as the film succeeds in dissecting certain traditions and moral codes, albeit with slightly reckless abandon. Imamura’s work, by reputation, is often fuelled by borderline madness, which in the case of Profound Desires, only serves to up the ante, invoking the desired reaction from the audience.
Although, at first, Imamura appears reluctant to choose a side in the battle between primitivism and forward thinking, he does begin to suggest that despite the ignorance that comes with the superstitious ways of the islanders, their culture is not baseless. Peeling away the chaotic layers, he reveals the simplistic shaman-like ways of Toriko to be a source of visionary strength.
The film’s substantial running time should not detract from what is a deeply moving and satisfying monster of a movie. Imamura delivers on several levels, conjuring a powerful and visceral dissection of cultural issues that have been at the forefront of Japanese theorising for several centuries. It is because of this film that Imamura takes his place amongst the legends of Japanese cinema.
Despite its aforementioned failure at the box office, Profound Desires Of The Gods is very much canonised as a cult classic, perhaps due to its unavailability in certain formats until very recently. What could easily feel outdated, merely due to the film’s age, remains refreshing, and the ongoing struggle between god and machine rages on. MC
A rhapsodic celebration of song, a brutal condemnation of wartime mentality, and a lyrical statement of hope within darkness; even amongst the riches of 1950s' Japanese cinema, The Burmese Harp, directed by Kon Ichikawa (Alone Across The Pacific, Tokyo Olympiad), stands as one of the finest achievements of its era.
At the close of World War II, a Japanese army regiment in Burma surrenders to the British. Private Mizushima is sent on a lone mission to persuade a trapped Japanese battalion to surrender also. When the outcome is a failure, he disguises himself in the robes of a Buddhist monk in hope of temporary anonymity as he journeys across the landscape – but he underestimates the power of his assumed role.
A visually extraordinary and deeply moving vision of horror, necessity, and redemption in the aftermath of war, Ichikawa's breakthrough film is one of the great humanitarian affirmations of the cinema.
This release includes a new, restored high-definition transfer officially licensed from Nikkatsu and newly translated optional English subtitles. The package features a 40-page booklet with an essay by Keiko I. McDonald and rare archival stills.
Film: The Burmese Harp
Release date: 21st February 2011
Certificate: 12
Running time: 117 mins
Director: Kon Ichikawa
Starring: Rentarô Mikuni, Shôji Yasui, Jun Hamamura, Taketoshi Naitô, Shunji Kasuga
Genre: Drama/War
Studio: Eureka!
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
DVD Special Features:
•
Exclusive video interview with scholar and filmmaker Tony Rayns
•
Original Japanese theatrical trailer
The culmination of Shōhei Imamura's extraordinary examinations of the fringes of Japanese society throughout the 1960s, Profound Desires Of The Gods was an 18-month super-production which failed to make an impression at the time of its release, but has since risen in stature to become one of the most legendary — albeit least seen — Japanese films of recent decades.
Presenting a vast chronicle of life on the remote Kurage Island, the film centres on the disgraced, superstitious, interbred Futori family and the Tokyo engineer sent to supervise the creation of a new well — an encounter which leads to both conflict and complicity in strange and powerful ways.
A tragic view of a passing epoch that teeters on the edge of grotesque farce, Imamura's merciless gaze combines with spectacular colour 'Scope photography to create a mythic saga convulsing with earthly impulses.
This release features a new English subtitle translation, and is packaged with an extensive booklet with a new essay by Tony Rayns, rare stills, reprinted statements by Imamura, a lengthy 1994 career interview, and a transcript of Imamura's introduction and Q&A session at the 1994 Edinburgh International Film Festival's screening of the film.
Film: Profound Desires Of The Gods
Release date: 21st February 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 173 mins
Director: Shôhei Imamura
Starring: Rentarô Mikuni, Choichiro Kawarazaki, Kazuo Kitamura, Hideko Okiyama, Yoshi Katô
Genre: Drama
Studio: Eureka!
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
DVD Special Features:
•
New video introduction by film scholar Tony Rayns
•
Original theatrical trailer
Film: Profound Desires Of The Gods
Release date: 21st June 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 173 mins
Director: Shohei Imamura
Starring: Rentaro Mikuni, Choichiro Kawarazaki, Kazuo Kitamura, Hideko Okiyama
Genre: Drama
Studio: Eureka
Format: Blu-ray
Country: Japan
A huge commercial failure upon its original 1968 release, Shohei Imamura’s Profound Desires Of The Gods has since risen in stature to become one of the most legendary, albeit least seen films of the Japanese New Wave.
The film depicts the traditional society that exists on the fictional island of Kurage, its islanders caught between faith in their traditional gods and the promises of modernity. Central to the story are the Futori, the oldest and most primitive family on Kurage. Maligned as beasts by the other islanders for their incestuous habits, the Futori clan includes the unfortunate Nekichi, who spends his days chained up in a pit that he is digging to appease the gods after violating local customs.
When the engineer Kariya arrives from Tokyo, tasked with building a well to get fresh water for a new sugar cane family, he quickly becomes frustrated by the environment and the islanders’ superstitions. Soon, this emissary of rationalism and progress falls for the feral, nymphomaniac Futori daughter, Toriko. After briefly embracing his inner savage during some of the film’s more paradisal moments, it is not long before the forces of civilization and capitalism reassert their claims on the mainlander. Eventually, the island opens up to those forces of progress that will spell the end for the Futori way of life…
Opening with a dazzling burst of sunlight that seems to suggest a pre-civilization dawning itself, the film introduces itself through a series of shots of the animal and marine life of Kurage (a water-snake, a sea cucumber, an extreme close-up of a blowfish’s disturbingly human-like face), before a man abruptly appears on screen to tear an octopus from its grip on a shoreline rock. Similar images abound throughout the film, as Imamura attempts to strip any distinctions between the human inhabitants of the island and their animal or plant counterparts, breaking down the divisions of natural/unnatural or, as Imamura has stated, regular/irregular. It is a world in which both animal and human receive the same treatment, and the same sympathy. Early on in the film, a pig goes overboard into the ocean and is quickly devoured by a shark, foreshadowing a similar fate suffered by one of the main characters. One of the film’s most extraordinary shots features two characters having sex as the camera adopts a God’s point-of-view through an overhead lightshade in which a number of lizards scurry - predominance given to neither human nor reptile.
Providing Profound Desires With The Gods with its dramatic drive, and a key to understanding the film, is its opposition of conflicting narratives: that of the Westernised humanist notion of civilization as a process of continual progression (represented by Tokyo and the images of Coca-Cola strewn around the film’s finale) against the more primal traditional narrative embodied in the myths and rituals of the islanders. Imamura stated that he did not believe the basic human qualities of society has ever changed, and this sheds light on the film’s focus on the primitive as a means of getting to some essential truth. It is clear that Kurage is intended to represent an older pre-civilized Japan, one still in touch with its own creation myths in which the islands were created from discarded objects thrown by incestuous brother and sister gods.
Forming a parallel with the mythological origins of the island are the confused interrelationships of the Futori clan. Nekichi’s punishment stems partly from insinuations of incest with his sister Uma. Further intimations of incest spread across the entire family, from the patriarch Yamamori down to Nekichi’s inbred daughter Toriko.
It is the Futori’s who embody most the wild, ritualistic society of Kurage, with beliefs that seem initially little more than the product of ignorant and superstitious minds. It is in keeping with the film’s own internal (il)logic (its desire to break the divisions between the regular and irregular) that, as the film progresses, these beliefs are presented as not entirely baseless. When Toriko is revealed as a true noro (shaman) with visionary powers, conjuring a spirit to appear in the sky, the film expresses a deeper reality that transcends the rational.
While fairly even-handed in portraying the distasteful aspects of both the atavistic and the civilised, it becomes clear that Imamura favours the Futoris for a certain pureness they possess. Certainly more sympathy is allocated to them than is shown to the tourists who invade the island towards the film’s close, with their ignorance of Kurage’s history and meaning. The refusal of the Futoris to go along with the given narrative about the island and its future is shown as admirable. Imamura does not even wholly condemn their incest, suggesting it almost as a source of strength: the brother-sister relationships are ultimately redeeming (Toriko is stronger than the engineer who allows himself to be shipped back to Tokyo while she sits on the beach turning into rock).
Imamura has expressed the opinion that non-Japanese audiences may not fully understand his films. While at times confusing, the film does not, however, feel like an overly intellectual exercise. Instead it is more visceral, with an expressionistic, almost hallucinatory style that locates the viewer directly within its potent mix of sun and sweat.
The performances by the cast also contribute an emotional pull. It seems unfair to single out one actor in a film full of excellent performances (even more astonishing for their largely improvised nature), but Hideko Okiyama is particularly impressive in the difficult role of the child-like yet extremely sexual Toriko. The scene in which she channels the dead spirits of the island is especially memorable - her portrayal of the frenzied state of the possessed positively terrifying in its believability.
For a filmmaker so studiously disinterested in aesthetics, Profound Desires Of The Gods is also very beautiful. It came as a surprise to learn this was Imamura’s first colour film, combining incredible vibrancy with an expertly handled use of natural light to produce some of the most resplendent images seen in world cinema. The beauty of its cinematography for once justifies the decision to release it solely on the Blu-ray format, though it is regrettable that this may lead to many missing out on a wonderful film that really deserves to be seen.
An allegory of Japan’s own killing of its traditional gods, a poetic rendering of those atavistic callings that can never be fully subjugated by the forces of civilization, Profound Desires Of The Gods is visionary cinema at its very finest. An astonishing achievement. GJK
