Prion Reviews

The Deer Hunter (1978)

The best movie for Vietnamese to view Vietnam War from a common American's perspective, although self-pitiful for Americans to admire.

[8 March 1999]

Undoubtedly "The Deer Hunter" is one of the greatest movies ever made. Also Robert DeNiro is at his best here. I saw this film in 1978, and was greatly moved by its powerful depiction of the sharp contrast of the peace and the hell. I have no experience of Vietnam, but through the film, I got the vicarious despair and sadness of Michael.

Although forcing prisoners to play Russian roulette seems too risky for the Viet Con, so not realistic, moreover, although every Asian character in the film one-sidedly acts really mean, I believe this is the best film for Vietnamese to view that war from a common American's perspective. I really would like to know how Vietnamese would feel if they see the film.

On the other hand -- Don't get me wrong I love this film but -- it sounds a kind of self-pity that Americans admire the film, being blind to a common-Vietnamese perspective on the film or the war. Our innocent love for our home region or culture with innocent indifference to others' perspectives is apt to make us insensitive about "innocent" bias against others. This has been one of the origins of wars, hasn't it?

Dreams (1990)

A Fresh Movie Experience: "DREAMS" is a Music-like Movie, depicting Fear arising from Violating the Forbidden, Guilt, Admiration of Beauty, and the Union of Death and Happiness.

[10/10 · 3 March 1999]

"DREAMS"(Yume) is a special film to me. When I saw this film for the first time, it seemed to me rather strange. When I saw it for the second time, I was fascinated by its fantasies and beauty. And when I saw it for the third time, I was choked with tears.

I know "DREAMS" is apt to be misunderstood mainly because Kurosawa has concentrated his efforts in faithfully reproducing his treasured dreams, not in creating a story from the dreams. The film consists of eight vignettes. Some of the vignettes contain elements* of Japanese folktales or myths. But because they appear in the vignettes without explanation, the viewer may be puzzled at first. This shows that "DREAMS" is a reproduction of dreams, unlike ordinary feature films. Kurosawa seemingly makes no attempt to tell a story or to narrate a message, rather, his purpose is to reproduce his dreams. Because Kurosawa has given priority to telling his own dreams, any apparent message we find in "DREAMS" should be considered as something projected onto his dreams as a reflection of his experiences, rather than as a direct message.

Paradoxical as it may sound, faithfully reproducing dreams can allow us to come closer to TRUTH than more orthodox approaches. I suppose Kurosawa made "DREAMS" with such an intent. And what he has succeeded in producing through this approach seems to be depiction of fear arising from violating the forbidden, guilt, admiration of beauty, and the union of death and happiness.

Because Kurosawa has taken such an approach, those who expect an immediate message from this film may at first be disappointed. To such people I would say, "Forget messages. Instead, enjoy the vicarious excitement and wonder of Kurosawa's dreams." I myself have been fascinated by "DREAMS" without seeking messages.

For instance, I was greatly moved at the very end of "DREAMS" - the last scene of "Village of the Watermills." What moved me was not simply what the centenarian said, but that everything was integrated - the old man's personality, his existence and the existence of the village as embodiments of an ideal life, the idea of a happy funeral, the idyllic air of the village, the beautiful flow of the river, the movement of the water mills, the sound of the water, the sweet music evocative of personal memories.... Also the image of the flowing river reminded me of a thirteenth-century Japanese writer's words, which Kurosawa must also have had in mind when he filmed the scene: "The flow of the river is ceaseless and its water is never the same. The bubbles that float in the pools, now vanishing, now forming, are not of long duration: so in the world are man and his dwellings."(From Chomei Kamo-no's "Hojoki," translated by Donald Keene) The integration of all these elements overpowered me.

"DREAMS" is a music-like film. It looks much like a suite consisting of eight contrasting movements rather than a movie. Sensuous elements are given equal place to narration or logic. The film expresses truth projected through Kurosawa's experiences with visuals and sounds which ravish the eyes and ears.

"DREAMS" is not an "active" film. Each vignette opens with the same subhead in Japanese, "I saw a dream like this." It sounds as if Kurosawa were speaking to us, "Hi, dears. I had a fantastic dream. Do you want to hear about it?" How can we fault such an innocent proposal? Just as it is nonsense to criticize others' dreams, so too is it irrelevant to criticize "DREAMS." It may be true that "DREAMS" appeals primarily to those whose feelings or thoughts resonate with Kurosawa's. But so what? We can still enjoy his fantasies each in our own way unless we persist in common beliefs about the way movies should be.

Well, then. Let's "listen to" the suite, not being argumentative, but just relaxing and clearing our minds, with some drinks if we like.

[*note] The following are the elements in "DREAMS" seemingly derived from Japanese folktales or myths. Foxes in "SUNSHINE THROUGH THE RAIN": Foxes have spiritual powers and are capable of bewitching people by turning themselves into humans. Dolls in "THE PEACH ORCHARD": March 3 is the day of Peach Festival for girls, on which girls display a set of "hina" dolls on a tiered stand at home. The dolls are believed to save a girl when she meets a crisis by sacrificing themselves. A woman in "THE BLIZZARD...": A pale, cold, female apparition in white, called "the woman of the snow," appears on snowy nights, and often takes a man's life. A demon in "THE WEEPING DEMON": A horned demon called "oni" has an ambivalent nature; he has a benevolent face as well as a demonic one. Mount Fuji in "MOUNT FUJI IN RED": This dormant volcano has been the object of religious worship as a place where spirits and a god live.

The Face of Another (1966)

Personality determines Appearance? Or Appearance determines Personality?

[10/10 · 12 February 1999]

This is a film that has to be rescued for all moviegoers.

I saw "The Face of Another" (Tanin no kao) at the National Gallery of Art's series, "A New Wave in Japan: 1955-1974," and was mesmerized by this "elegantly spooky and enigmatic examination of identity." This is the third of four Hiroshi Teshigahara (director)/Kobo Abe (writer)/ Toru Takemistu (composer) collaborations. They have reached nearly the same perfection in the fusion of image, sound, and subject in this work as in their brilliant work, "Woman in the Dunes."

A businessman (Tatsuya Nakadai), whose face has been scarred in an industrial fire, is receiving psychotherapy from a psychiatrist (Mikijiro Hira). He succeeds in persuading the psychiatrist to make a mask for him, amazingly lifelike but completely different from his own face. Soon after being fitted for the mask, he tries to seduce his wife (Machiko Kyo) and succeeds; she promptly falls for the handsome stranger. He becomes angry at her weakness for a handsome man, but she claims she was aware all along that he was her husband and believed that both were just masquerading together as most couples usually do in different ways. She tells him that it is not she but he who has worried excessively about his appearance and who has spoiled his relationship with others. Strangely enough, his personality seemingly begins to change after he puts on the mask as if the mask has influenced his personality. And, he comes to realize that his new identity does not enable him to reintegrate into society after all.

The film also has a touching subplot. A good-natured young woman (Miki Irie, now Mrs. Seiji Ozawa), the left side of whose face is beautiful, but the right side of which is disfigured, has been hurt by others' inquisitive eyes and insults. She has been shunned and never been treated as a lady by any man other than her older brother. One day, she and her brother take a trip to a seaside resort, and in the hotel, she asks him to make love to her, hiding from him the intention of killing herself the next morning. He accepts her surprising request. During the lovemaking, he kisses her on the right side of her face. Her brother is the only man who can understand her pain and solitude and who can love the ugliest part of her appearance because of his deep love for her.

After seeing this film, questions arise. What is Identity? How is it established? What is the relationship among Identity, Personality, and Physical Appearance? Does Personality determine Physical Appearance? Or, does Physical Appearance determine Personality? Abe and Teshigahara seem to challenge our common beliefs about this.

The story is easy to follow, unlike "Woman in the Dunes." The dialogue is sophisticated enough as to be quotable.

Takemitsu's musical score is outstanding. He has created a sharp contrast between sweet, sad music, which represents dance music for the masquerade, and deep, eerie "music," which represents the reality of faceless people.

I hope this film will enjoy a revival and come to video or DVD in the near future.

Woman in the Dunes (1964)

Sand: A metaphor for "usualness" generating "mental inertia."

[10/10 · 28 January 1999]

In early 1966, when the annual Oscar nominations for best director of the year were announced, Teshigahara might have even made a wry smile. What is surprising to me today is not that a Japanese filmmaker almost unknown in the US was nominated, but that the Motion Picture Academy in 1966 had such a keen aesthetic sense as to appreciate his radical work. "Woman in the Dunes" (Suna no onna) was far ahead of its time, radiating Absolute Beauty.

An entomologist (Eiji Okada) seeks lodging for the night in the dunes, and is led by the villagers to the bottom of a sandpit where he finds a widow (Kyoko Kishida) living in a shack. Next morning he discovers he can no longer climb out. He is expected to remain there and to live with the woman, who needs a man's help. Because the sand drifts into the shack without cease, shoveling sand away from the sandpit is her primary daily routine. After all attempts to escape the situation fail, he becomes accustomed to it and finds another way of life.

It is almost meaningless to try to ascertain any scientific or economic logic beneath the surface of this allegorical story (written by Kobo Abe). Such hairsplitting will only make you lose the merit of this work. The primary subject of the story seems to lie in a certain passive mentality to be called "mental inertia," mental acclimation, conformity, or something like that. "Mental inertia" is caused by "usualness" (or "dailiness"), and comes to dominate the subconscious in due course. Abe and Teshigahara metaphorically depict such "usualness" as the character of sand -- usualness formed in an unusual situation.

The woman has a strong mental attachment to the status quo around her; despite the cruel fact that the sand has killed her husband and daughter, she prefers to stay there and not to change her life. This is the "mental inertia" of the work. The entomologist, too. He at first thinks the whole situation surrounding the woman absurd, and tries to escape it. However, he becomes accustomed to the situation day by day, and accepts such absurdity after all. By whom is he forced to do so? The villagers? No. Himself! He chooses to return to the sandpit and stay there even when he becomes free to leave. He becomes a captive in the dunes by "mental inertia" just as he has been in the city.

After seeing this work, I came to feel that many variants of "invisible sand," which might dominate our "free will," are drifting and accumulating around us without cease, whether or not we realize it.

Pictures are great. The sand is living here, showing various expressions. Surely it "acts" as a main character in several impressive scenes, including an unforgettable love scene where the couple is caked with it.

And, music! -- if we may call this incomparable sound work so. It not only enhances each scene fully, but also gives life to things that are not expressed in image alone. From barbaric drum music through sensual sound like the sand's "breathing," Takemistu-sound is full of imagination and magic.

A perfect fusion of Image, Sound, and Subject. See "Woman in the Dunes" and die.