The Maid’s Kid / 女中ッ子 / Jochukko (1955)

Obscure Japanese Film #239

Sachiko Hidari

This Nikkatsu production stars Sachiko Hidari – best-known for The Insect Woman (1963) and A Fugitive from the Past (1965) – as Hatsu, a young woman from snowy Akita Prefecture who goes to Tokyo to work as a maid in the house of middle-class couple Kyohei (Shuji Sano) and his wife Umeko (Yukiko Todoroki). 

Shuji Sano

Yukiko Todoroki

At first, Hatsu seems like the stereotypically naive country bumpkin, but she’s also a hard-working, cheerful bundle of energy who turns out, in many ways, to be the perfect maid. The family also includes two young boys who have been left to their own devices by their parents and become totally out of control. When Hatsu develops a strong bond with the younger child, Katsumi (Teruo Iba), he begins to be mocked by his classmates, who call him the ‘son of a maid’...

Teruo Iba

Based on a just-published novel by female author Yuki Shigeko (1900-69), The Maid’s Kid was directed by the underrated Tomotaka Tasaka, who also co-wrote the screenplay together with Katsuya Susaki. Tasaka had a tendency to make long films, and this one is no exception at 142 minutes, but he also had a rare gift for never making them feel overlong. In fact, his readiness to linger on a shot feels quite modern today in the wake of the Slow Cinema movement. He also makes excellent use of real locations and elicits fine performances from all involved – most notably Hidari, of course; it’s difficult to imagine any other actor pulling this role off as well as she does here. It’s the sort of drama that stands or falls on its main performance, and Hatsu could easily have ended up seeming too unconvincingly saintly if played by a less skilled or less suitable star. Other familiar faces among the supporting cast include Chieko Higashiyama, Tanie Kitabayashi and, in one of his earliest film appearances, a pre-cheeky Joe Shishido.

Perhaps the main point of the story is that a person’s social status bears no correlation to their worth as a person; Kyohei and Umeko say they don’t believe in titles like ‘master’ and ‘mistress’, but they act with oblivious selfishness and disregard for Hatsu, at times treating her more like a slave than a servant so that she barely gets a moment’s rest. At one point, she’s even rebuked for not understanding that some people are more important than others. However, another strength of the film is that, although the couple’s hypocrisy is quite evident to the viewer, they are not reduced to one-dimensional villains and are portrayed as basically decent, if misguided, people.

Tasaka’s avoidance of melodrama and intelligent handling of the material is complemented by the work of his regular cinematographer Saburo Isayama as well as by Akira ‘Godzilla’ Ifukube’s fine score. The film was ranked 7^th best of its year by Kinema Junpo magazine, but is less well-known than it deserves today. It was remade in 1976 as Dongurikko by director Katsumi Nishikawa in a version starring the singer Masako Mori.

Thanks to A.K.

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The Alaska Story / アラスカ物語 / Arasuka monogatari (1977)

Obscure Japanese Film #228

Kinya Kitaoji

This Toho production was based on a 1974 novel* by Jiro Nitta (1912-80), who also supplied the source material for the previously-reviewed Mount Hakkoda, another big movie shot on rugged locations and released the same year. Nitta’s novel was itself based on the life of Frank Yasuda (1868-1958), sometimes dubbed the ‘Japanese Moses.’ Yasuda emigrated to the USA as a young man and served on the USS Bear, a coast guard vessel which became entrapped in ice off the coast of Alaska in 1893. Sent to get help, he walked a vast distance before eventually collapsing, then was rescued by some Inuit in the nick of time. They sent a party to the aid of his shipmates, but Yasuda decided to remain with the Inuit and was taken under the wing of a man named Amaohka, who taught him whaling and hunting. Yasuda ended up marrying Amaohka’s daughter, Nebiro. However, when food became scarce in the area, Yasuda hooked up with Thomas Carter, an American gold prospector, hoping to strike it rich and make enough to lead his adoptive people to a better land (hence the ‘Japanese Moses’ moniker)…

Kyoko Mitsubayashi

Adapted for the screen by Masato Ide (known for his work with Kurosawa), the film follows Yasuda’s story quite closely, but throws in some fictional scenes to spice up the drama, such as the rather absurd but highly entertaining one in which a pack of wolves try to break into Yasuda’s cabin while his wife’s trying to give birth. There was an opportunity to make a more thoughtful, serious film here, but what we get is a disappointingly superficial entertainment. The director, Hiromichi Horikawa, was a former assistant to Kurosawa who made at least two very good films, The Lost Alibi (1960) and Shiro to kuro (1963), but failed to live up to that early promise.

Joe Shishido

Having said that, The Alaska Story was by no means a chore to sit through and remains worth a look for its breathtaking locations shot by cinematographer Kozo Okazaki, who worked with many of Japan’s top directors. Masaru Sato’s elaborate score is also inspired at times. Leading man Kinya Kitaoji was likely cast for his physical toughness and endurance rather than acting ability, but he’s adequate anyway. The only other Japanese character is played by Joe Shishido, who steals the show here as the forthright George Oshima, Yasuda’s real-life friend, who seems to have been a sort of wandering lone adventurer. Other well-known Japanese actors appear as Inuit, including Eiji Okada as Amaohka, Kyoko Mitsubayashi as Nebiro, and Hideo Gosha favourite Isao Natsuyagi, while Tetsuro Tanba pops up as a Native American chief – and I must say he does look the part! But the real star of this film is nature herself.

Tetsuro Tanba

As usual with Japanese films featuring Western characters (of which there are quite a few), the director appears to have just grabbed the nearest Westerners to fill these roles regardless of acting ability or experience, and they’re mostly terrible. The one honourable exception is William Ross, who plays Tom Carter, and is quite decent. Ross was an American who emigrated to Japan and found work in the film industry in many capacities, but basically whenever a gaijin was needed.

William Ross

Those who enjoy tales of real-life adventure may well enjoy this film, but a word of warning for animal-lovers – it looks like Kitaoji killed a seal for real in one scene, and there’s also a sequence featuring a whale hunt which I don’t think was faked. As the British Board of Film Censors prohibits such scenes, I suspect that this is the reason why the film has had no UK release that I know of.

* An English translation was published in 1980 as An Alaskan Tale

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Confession / 色ざんげ / Iro zange (‘Confession of a Love Affair’, 1956)

 

Yuasa (Masayuki Mori) is a middle-aged painter in the process of divorcing his wife (Hisano Yamaoka) and in love with the much younger Tsuyuko (Mie Kitahara), who reciprocates his feelings. However, Tsuyuko’s father (Ichiro Sugai) is dead set against the match and packs her off to America in the hope that she’ll forget about Yuasa. While she’s gone, Yuasa decides he’d better accept the situation and gets married instead to another much younger woman, Tomoko (Keiko Amaji), but she just likes the idea of being married to a famous painter and continues to see her former student boyfriend, Kunihiko (Joe Shishido) on the sly. Then Tsuyuko returns from America…

 

Mie Kitahara

 

This Nikkatsu production was based on a novel originally published as a serial between 1933 and 1935 by Chiyo Uno (female, 1897-1996). The character of Yuasa was based on the painter Seiji Togo (1897-1978), with whom Uno had an affair that lasted from 1930-34. The story must have seemed old-fashioned even in 1956, and it’s doubtful that the film was very successful commercially as Uno’s work was not adapted for the screen again until 1984. Nikkatsu is also a studio not known for its tragic love stories and would soon focus its attention on producing gangster movies aimed at the youth market. 

 

Masayuki Mori and Keiko Amaji

 

The fact that the central character of Yuasa never really convinces or comes to life leaves this film dead in the water. The other characters are constantly making a fuss about what an amazing artist he is, but we see no evidence of this except a not particularly impressive portrait of Tsuyuko dressed like Little Bo Peep. As we never see the beginning of their relationship, it’s impossible to understand how these two were drawn to each other in the first place. Worse still, it seems that we’re expected to sympathise with how hard life must be for Yuasa as a wealthy middle-aged younger-woman magnet who lives a life of idleness. When Tsuyuko’s father understandably prevents him from getting what he wants, Yuasa mopes his way through the remainder of the film wallowing in self-pity, Masayuki Mori rarely deviating from his patented Staring Into The Void expression. 

 

Kinuyo Tanaka

 

Joe Shishido

The cast also includes Kinuyo Tanaka (wasted here as a friend of Yuasa’s) and a thin-faced Joe Shishido before the cheek job, but it’s the great Hisano Yamaoka who steals it here as the ex-wife who’s probably supposed to be a shrew, but for whom I felt quite sympathetic, though not quite as much as I did for Yuasa’s second wife Tomoko when she complains about being, ‘Bored, bored, bored!’ 

 

Hisano Yamaoka

 

This is the first film I’ve seen by director Yutaka Abe (1895-1977), who had lived in America from around 1912-24 and worked in Hollywood, first as an extra and later as a featured actor. This experience led to him becoming a director after his return to Japan, and he directed his first film there in 1925. I can’t say that I was much impressed by his work in Confession, in which he lets the same scene between Mori and Shishido play out twice (first on a beach, then again immediately afterwards in a hotel room) and uses waves crashing against rocks as a visual metaphor for passion – something I’m pretty sure was a hoary old cliché even then.

Amazon Japan (no English subtitles)

Thanks to A.K. 

 

Wounded Beast / 傷つける野獣 / Kizu tsukeru yaju (1959)

Obscure Japanese Film #195

 

Tamio Kawaji

Kasahara (Tamio Kawaji) is a young man who bungles an attempt to rob a bank in Yokohama, shooting one of the staff in the process, and is forced to flee the scene without the loot. Detective Kizaki (Hideaki Nitani) is assigned to the case and soon discovers that the bullet matches a gun stolen from a detective killed in Osaka a few days before. Kasahara seeks refuge in the house of his sister (Tomoko Ko), but the police soon arrive and he only just manages to give them the slip. 

 

Hideaki Nitani

 

Kizaki’s investigations reveal that Kasahara was orphaned during the war and subsequently slid into a life of delinquency and petty crime. He loves Yoshiko (Hisako Tsukuba), who reciprocates his feelings, and we learn that he attempted the bank robbery after happening to see a vox pop interview in a cinema newsreel in which Yoshiko was asked by a reporter what it was she most wanted and replied ‘Money!’ The police now realise that all they have to do is follow Yoshiko and Kasahara will turn up sooner or later…

 

Hisako Tsukuba

 

This Nikkatsu noir credits notable future director Kei Kumai with its screenplay (his first) and has a separate credit for the prolific Hajime Takaiwa for ‘adaptation’, although it seems not to have had a literary source. Director Hiroshi Noguchi* directed his first eight feature films for Nikkatsu between 1939 and 1941, after which the war led to the studio becoming part of Daiei until 1954, when Noguchi became a director again, having spent most of the intervening years as an A.D. at Shochiku. He never made the top tier and remained a B-picture man until his premature death from a heart attack in 1967 at the age of 54, shortly after having completed his 85th film, Nikkatsu’s only monster movie, Gappa, the Triphibian Monster. However, if Wounded Beast is anything to go by, he was clearly not without talent, as it’s a fast-moving, stylish and entertaining piece of work. 

 

Joe Shishido

The majority of the cast are not terribly well-known (at least outside Japan), but – as one of the detectives – it does feature a young Joe Shishido, who appears to have begun but not yet completed the cheek augmentation surgery that would eventually lead to him resembling a hamster with the mumps. The underrated Yoko Minamida also pops up as Detective Kizaki’s girlfriend. 

 

Yoko Minamida

 

The opening credits sequence benefits from a cool jazz theme by composer Teizo Matsumura featuring what sounds like metal pipes being struck; this is followed by an abrupt silence and an attention-grabbing opening shot of a gun pointed directly at the camera. Noguchi also makes effective use of real locations and handles the action sequences very well. However, the most surprising aspect of the film is the amount of sympathy it has for Kasahara, even though he’s killed two people, one of whom was a police detective. The film’s liberal message is clearly that he’s really just a scared kid who’s had a lousy life and is desperately trying to act tough because he lacked a positive role model. 

*Aka Haruyasu Noguchi, real name Shigeichi Noguchi

Bonus trivia: Hisako Tsukuba later produced Piranha (1978) and several of its sequels.

Watched with dodgy subtitles

Amazon Japan (no subtitles)

 

Policeman's Diary / 警察日記 / Keisatsu nikki (1955)

Obscure Japanese Film #20

Rentaro Mikuni and Kaneko Iwasaki

Rentaro Mikuni, star of my previous post’s film, appears here on the other side of the law, but in a smaller role, as this Nikkatsu production is an ensemble piece featuring a cast of well-known actors, each of whom has limited screen time. Here, Mikuni is a naïve country policeman who falls for a young woman (Kaneko Iwasaki) he rescues from the clutches of a people trafficker played by Haruko Sugimura. 

Haruko Sugimura

Masao Mishima

Masao Mishima plays Mikuni’s boss, while Taiji Tonoyama and Hisaya Morishige appear as his colleagues. In this world, a long way from the yakuza and seedy bars of Tokyo, the cops are all good-natured types who prefer to help people rather than lock them up. However, life remains far from ideal, and we see many signs of economic hardship and lives shattered by the war. The strand which receives the most attention focuses on Police Sergeant Yoshii (Morishige); lumbered with a young girl and her baby brother who have been abandoned on a train by their mother, he finds a temporary home for the baby and takes the girl into his own house as he already has five kids and figures one more will make no difference.

 

Taiji Tonoyama, Hisaya Morishige, Terumi Niki and Joe Shishido

A number of familiar faces pop up in Policeman’s Diary, many of whom will be recognisable from the films of Kurosawa...

Noriko Sengoku

Bokuzen Hidari (centre)

Miki Odagiri and Yunosuke Ito (centre)

Eijiro Tono

Terumi Niki

Noriko Sengoku portrays a woman abandoned by her husband who resorts to shoplifting in order to feed her children. Bokuzen Hidari plays a poor farmer, while Yunosuke Ito is an equally poor cart-puller who has been dumped by his fiancé but finds he is loved by barmaid Miki Odagiri (the cheerful young colleague of Takashi Shimura in Ikiru). Eijiro Tono, the tavern-keeper in Yojimbo, here plays a primary school teacher who lost his mind when his children were killed during the war, which he believes is still in progress. The little girl taken in by Sergeant Yoshii is played by Terumi Niki, making her official film debut at the tender age of 6, although she had appeared briefly in Seven Samurai at the age of 3. She continued acting throughout her childhood, adolescence and adulthood, appearing most memorably as the traumatised young patient who repeatedly refuses the medicine offered by Toshiro Mifune in Redbeard.  Another notable actor making a debut here is Joe Shishido, who appears as a young policeman but is not immediately recognisable as this was prior to his bizarre cheek-expansion surgery.

Based on an untranslated 1952 novel by Einosuke Ito and adapted by Mikio Naruse’s regular collaborator, Toshiro Ide, Policeman’s Diary is well-directed by Seiji Hisamatsu (1912-1990), a prolific filmmaker who seems to be entirely unknown in the West. He directed his first film in 1934 for Shinko Kinema, with whom he remained until the war, during which Shinko was swallowed up in a merger, becoming part of Daiei.  Hisamatsu then worked at Daiei before going freelance in 1954, when he was mainly employed by Nikkatsu, Toho and Tokyo Eiga. Like many Japanese directors, he ended his career in television after film work dried up in the late ‘60s. His filmography is full of quality dramas featuring the top actors of the day, so why this is the only film accessible outside Japan of the 101 that he directed remains a mystery. Given that his 1954 picture Onna no koyomi (Women’s Calendar) was screened in competition at Cannes, he won the Japanese Art Award in 1956 and his 1961 film Chi no hate ni ikiru mono (aka The Angry Sea) was nominated for Best Film at the Mar del Plata Film Festival in Argentina, Hisamatsu was clearly no hack.

Despite all the Kurosawa regulars among the cast, Policeman’s Diary is more reminiscent of the films of Keisuke Kinoshita, partly due to its setting in a rural community. I found it to be a charming, bittersweet comic drama from a more innocent age, and it was clearly popular as Nikkatsu produced a sequel the following year.