Masaki Kobayashi

  • Ningen no jôken [The Human Condition I: No Greater Love] (1959)

    Ningen no jôken [The Human Condition I: No Greater Love] (1959)

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) There’s a lot to like in The Human Condition I: No Greater Love — at least in theory. The story of a Japanese pacifist being recruited as an instrument of warfare during the early days of WW2, it’s a story that works best in detailing the efforts he makes to improve the conditions of the prisoners, even going against his superiors in order to do so. The fragile peace he brokers involves prostitutes, prisoners, work quotas and the support of his loving wife. As I said — interesting stuff… if it wasn’t for the backbreaking, patience-sapping three hours and a half running time, half of it redundant or useless. But director Masaki Kobayashi is not interested in snappy storytelling: he’s halfway into art-film territory here, with a focus on the leisurely examination of the themes of the novels from which the story is taken. As the title suggests, this is the first part of a nine-hour trilogy — and things are not set to improve for our protagonist. I’m sure I’ll see the other films… but I’m not in a hurry to do so.

  • Seppuku [Hara-kiri] (1962)

    Seppuku [Hara-kiri] (1962)

    (Criterion Streaming, July 2020) I wasn’t expecting much of Seppuku, but that’s not the film’s fault—I may have overdosed on samurai movies a while back, and I wasn’t necessarily looking forward to another early-1960s black-and-white Japanese samurai drama. So, I was a bit surprised when the opening sequence of director Masaki Kobayashi’s film drew me in with unusually modern cinematography, heavy on tracking shots and insistent editing. Then you get into the mystery of the film’s plot, as a samurai comes to commit ritual suicide in a lord’s courtyard while making specific demands. There’s clearly a reason behind his requests, and much of Seppuku is a mystery pieced together through flashbacks and revelations. For a film set in 17th-century Japan with its very specific social codes, this is an unusually accessible film, as the information required to make sense of it all is intelligibly presented. In some ways, the film is a rough analogue of a courtroom drama, as it explores social constraints according to the limits the participants have set upon themselves. By the time we piece together the explanation, Seppuku has become an elegant story of revenge, exploiting flaws in the opponent’s self-image to drive them to destruction. Now, I’m not a fan of the entire film—I think that the flashback sequences take too long and lessen the growing suspense. I also have some minor issues with bits and pieces here and there. But overall, I can see why the film has enjoyed a bit of a pop-critical renaissance for the past few years (having recently cracked the IMDB-250, not normally known for more challenging filmmaking) and why it’s held in such high esteem. I actually like Seppuku more than some (but not all) of Kurosawa’s samurai films, which is saying something even in a small pool of references.