Kon Ichikawa was hardly a novice in 1956 when he released "The Burmese Harp," his 27th feature in slightly over a decade of film-making. It was, however, the first internationally acclaimed hit for a director previously known for comedies and other studio genre assignments. "The Burmese Harp" won the San Giorgio Prize at the Venice Film Festival before achieving the slightly more dubious honor of an Oscar nomination in 1957 for Best Foreign Language Picture: it lost to Fellini´s insufferable "La Strada."
With "The Burmese Harp," Ichikawa turned from his comedy roots to take on the serious topic of war, specifically the capture of Japanese forces in Burma by British forces following Japan´s unconditional surrender, and the ramifications of this humiliating defeat. Based on a children´s novel transformed into a more adult story by screenwriter Natto Wada (also Ichikawa´s wife), the film surprisingly begins on a note of cross-cultural harmony. Japanese soldiers sing a tune that also turns out to be a song familiar to British soldiers. This bit of musical synchronicity prevents bloodshed as the British unit takes the Japanese unit prisoner. Indeed, music plays a central role in the film (you probably guessed that from the title) serving as the only uniting force in a world where people are otherwise torn apart by language and ideology.
The war is over, but not everybody acknowledges it thanks to poor communication (another theme in the film) or stubborn pride. Private Mizushima (Shoji Yazui) is recruited from the captured unit to convince a recalcitrant group of Japanese hold-outs to stop fighting. He tries his earnest best, but the commander refuses to believe him and the impatient Brits (who gave Mizushima exactly a half hour to complete his mission) bomb them all to pieces. Mizushima is presumed by his fellow soldiers to be among the dead, and they struggle to deal with his senseless death. Captain Inouye (Rentaro Mikuni), Mizushima´s musical mentor, is particularly grief-stricken by the loss.
Just after they have given up hope, the men encounter a monk who bears an eerie resemblance to their lost comrade. Yet he refuses to reply to their greetings. Is it Mizushima or not? Yes it is, but why has he changed so much and why won´t he return to his friends? Mizushima, for one, isn´t telling, speaking to his comrades only by playing his harp, though in this case, music doesn´t quite have the power to bridge the widening gap between the new monk and his former comrades-at-arms. Music hath charms, but it is no panacea.
"The Burmese Harp," in many ways, feels like the polar opposite of Ichikawa´s bitter pill "Fires on the Plain" (1959), though both films share one striking element in common: bodies of Japanese soldiers littering a foreign landscape, unburied and unnoticed. In "Fires on the Plain," the dead are nothing more than rotting meat for the buzzards or even for the few remaining living; in "The Burmese Harp" they are a great source of anguish, brave men who deserve a proper burial. Nobody in Burma is going to take on that responsibility, so Mizushima decides to shoulder it all by himself. he film can be taken to task for white-washing the Japanese presence in Burma (another stark contrast to "Fires on the Plain") though it´s more appropriate to say that Ichikawa simply chose not to tell that part of the story. Instead he focuses on the angst felt by proud soldiers who have been taught that capture is the ultimate shame but are forced to accept it anyway.
"The Burmese Harp" was a revelation in its day, but feels a bit too schematic and sentimental today, though no more so than a host of subsequent war films that have won great acclaim. As Ichikawa´s first international breakthrough, it´s a significant film with a sensitive humanist touch that is also found in Clint Eastwood´s more recent works, and not just his two war films of 2006.
With "The Burmese Harp," Ichikawa turned from his comedy roots to take on the serious topic of war, specifically the capture of Japanese forces in Burma by British forces following Japan´s unconditional surrender, and the ramifications of this humiliating defeat. Based on a children´s novel transformed into a more adult story by screenwriter Natto Wada (also Ichikawa´s wife), the film surprisingly begins on a note of cross-cultural harmony. Japanese soldiers sing a tune that also turns out to be a song familiar to British soldiers. This bit of musical synchronicity prevents bloodshed as the British unit takes the Japanese unit prisoner. Indeed, music plays a central role in the film (you probably guessed that from the title) serving as the only uniting force in a world where people are otherwise torn apart by language and ideology.
The war is over, but not everybody acknowledges it thanks to poor communication (another theme in the film) or stubborn pride. Private Mizushima (Shoji Yazui) is recruited from the captured unit to convince a recalcitrant group of Japanese hold-outs to stop fighting. He tries his earnest best, but the commander refuses to believe him and the impatient Brits (who gave Mizushima exactly a half hour to complete his mission) bomb them all to pieces. Mizushima is presumed by his fellow soldiers to be among the dead, and they struggle to deal with his senseless death. Captain Inouye (Rentaro Mikuni), Mizushima´s musical mentor, is particularly grief-stricken by the loss.
Just after they have given up hope, the men encounter a monk who bears an eerie resemblance to their lost comrade. Yet he refuses to reply to their greetings. Is it Mizushima or not? Yes it is, but why has he changed so much and why won´t he return to his friends? Mizushima, for one, isn´t telling, speaking to his comrades only by playing his harp, though in this case, music doesn´t quite have the power to bridge the widening gap between the new monk and his former comrades-at-arms. Music hath charms, but it is no panacea.
"The Burmese Harp," in many ways, feels like the polar opposite of Ichikawa´s bitter pill "Fires on the Plain" (1959), though both films share one striking element in common: bodies of Japanese soldiers littering a foreign landscape, unburied and unnoticed. In "Fires on the Plain," the dead are nothing more than rotting meat for the buzzards or even for the few remaining living; in "The Burmese Harp" they are a great source of anguish, brave men who deserve a proper burial. Nobody in Burma is going to take on that responsibility, so Mizushima decides to shoulder it all by himself. he film can be taken to task for white-washing the Japanese presence in Burma (another stark contrast to "Fires on the Plain") though it´s more appropriate to say that Ichikawa simply chose not to tell that part of the story. Instead he focuses on the angst felt by proud soldiers who have been taught that capture is the ultimate shame but are forced to accept it anyway.
"The Burmese Harp" was a revelation in its day, but feels a bit too schematic and sentimental today, though no more so than a host of subsequent war films that have won great acclaim. As Ichikawa´s first international breakthrough, it´s a significant film with a sensitive humanist touch that is also found in Clint Eastwood´s more recent works, and not just his two war films of 2006.
Kon Ichikawa was hardly a novice in 1956 when he released "The Burmese Harp," his 27th feature in slightly over a decade of film-making. It was, however, the first internationally acclaimed hit for a director previously known for comedies and other studio genre assignments. "The Burmese Harp" won the San Giorgio Prize at the Venice Film Festival before achieving the slightly more dubious honor of an Oscar nomination in 1957 for Best Foreign Language Picture: it lost to Fellini´s insufferable "La Strada."
With "The Burmese Harp," Ichikawa turned from his comedy roots to take on the serious topic of war, specifically the capture of Japanese forces in Burma by British forces following Japan´s unconditional surrender, and the ramifications of this humiliating defeat. Based on a children´s novel transformed into a more adult story by screenwriter Natto Wada (also Ichikawa´s wife), the film surprisingly begins on a note of cross-cultural harmony. Japanese soldiers sing a tune that also turns out to be a song familiar to British soldiers. This bit of musical synchronicity prevents bloodshed as the British unit takes the Japanese unit prisoner. Indeed, music plays a central role in the film (you probably guessed that from the title) serving as the only uniting force in a world where people are otherwise torn apart by language and ideology.
The war is over, but not everybody acknowledges it thanks to poor communication (another theme in the film) or stubborn pride. Private Mizushima (Shoji Yazui) is recruited from the captured unit to convince a recalcitrant group of Japanese hold-outs to stop fighting. He tries his earnest best, but the commander refuses to believe him and the impatient Brits (who gave Mizushima exactly a half hour to complete his mission) bomb them all to pieces. Mizushima is presumed by his fellow soldiers to be among the dead, and they struggle to deal with his senseless death. Captain Inouye (Rentaro Mikuni), Mizushima´s musical mentor, is particularly grief-stricken by the loss.
Just after they have given up hope, the men encounter a monk who bears an eerie resemblance to their lost comrade. Yet he refuses to reply to their greetings. Is it Mizushima or not? Yes it is, but why has he changed so much and why won´t he return to his friends? Mizushima, for one, isn´t telling, speaking to his comrades only by playing his harp, though in this case, music doesn´t quite have the power to bridge the widening gap between the new monk and his former comrades-at-arms. Music hath charms, but it is no panacea.
"The Burmese Harp," in many ways, feels like the polar opposite of Ichikawa´s bitter pill "Fires on the Plain" (1959), though both films share one striking element in common: bodies of Japanese soldiers littering a foreign landscape, unburied and unnoticed. In "Fires on the Plain," the dead are nothing more than rotting meat for the buzzards or even for the few remaining living; in "The Burmese Harp" they are a great source of anguish, brave men who deserve a proper burial. Nobody in Burma is going to take on that responsibility, so Mizushima decides to shoulder it all by himself. he film can be taken to task for white-washing the Japanese presence in Burma (another stark contrast to "Fires on the Plain") though it´s more appropriate to say that Ichikawa simply chose not to tell that part of the story. Instead he focuses on the angst felt by proud soldiers who have been taught that capture is the ultimate shame but are forced to accept it anyway.
"The Burmese Harp" was a revelation in its day, but feels a bit too schematic and sentimental today, though no more so than a host of subsequent war films that have won great acclaim. As Ichikawa´s first international breakthrough, it´s a significant film with a sensitive humanist touch that is also found in Clint Eastwood´s more recent works, and not just his two war films of 2006.
With "The Burmese Harp," Ichikawa turned from his comedy roots to take on the serious topic of war, specifically the capture of Japanese forces in Burma by British forces following Japan´s unconditional surrender, and the ramifications of this humiliating defeat. Based on a children´s novel transformed into a more adult story by screenwriter Natto Wada (also Ichikawa´s wife), the film surprisingly begins on a note of cross-cultural harmony. Japanese soldiers sing a tune that also turns out to be a song familiar to British soldiers. This bit of musical synchronicity prevents bloodshed as the British unit takes the Japanese unit prisoner. Indeed, music plays a central role in the film (you probably guessed that from the title) serving as the only uniting force in a world where people are otherwise torn apart by language and ideology.
The war is over, but not everybody acknowledges it thanks to poor communication (another theme in the film) or stubborn pride. Private Mizushima (Shoji Yazui) is recruited from the captured unit to convince a recalcitrant group of Japanese hold-outs to stop fighting. He tries his earnest best, but the commander refuses to believe him and the impatient Brits (who gave Mizushima exactly a half hour to complete his mission) bomb them all to pieces. Mizushima is presumed by his fellow soldiers to be among the dead, and they struggle to deal with his senseless death. Captain Inouye (Rentaro Mikuni), Mizushima´s musical mentor, is particularly grief-stricken by the loss.
Just after they have given up hope, the men encounter a monk who bears an eerie resemblance to their lost comrade. Yet he refuses to reply to their greetings. Is it Mizushima or not? Yes it is, but why has he changed so much and why won´t he return to his friends? Mizushima, for one, isn´t telling, speaking to his comrades only by playing his harp, though in this case, music doesn´t quite have the power to bridge the widening gap between the new monk and his former comrades-at-arms. Music hath charms, but it is no panacea.
"The Burmese Harp," in many ways, feels like the polar opposite of Ichikawa´s bitter pill "Fires on the Plain" (1959), though both films share one striking element in common: bodies of Japanese soldiers littering a foreign landscape, unburied and unnoticed. In "Fires on the Plain," the dead are nothing more than rotting meat for the buzzards or even for the few remaining living; in "The Burmese Harp" they are a great source of anguish, brave men who deserve a proper burial. Nobody in Burma is going to take on that responsibility, so Mizushima decides to shoulder it all by himself. he film can be taken to task for white-washing the Japanese presence in Burma (another stark contrast to "Fires on the Plain") though it´s more appropriate to say that Ichikawa simply chose not to tell that part of the story. Instead he focuses on the angst felt by proud soldiers who have been taught that capture is the ultimate shame but are forced to accept it anyway.
"The Burmese Harp" was a revelation in its day, but feels a bit too schematic and sentimental today, though no more so than a host of subsequent war films that have won great acclaim. As Ichikawa´s first international breakthrough, it´s a significant film with a sensitive humanist touch that is also found in Clint Eastwood´s more recent works, and not just his two war films of 2006.
No comments:
Post a Comment