Obscure Japanese Film #83
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| Yunosuke Ito with cabbage |
During the war, Japanese filmmakers were severely restricted by the authorities in their country, who would not allow any content that could be perceived as being critical of the military or having a pacifist message. After the war, the country’s filmmakers remained restricted, though the nature of the censorship changed – the occupying Americans banned anything they felt promoted feudalism, while encouraging material with a pro-democracy message, such as the previously reviewed A Descendant of Urashima Taro. The occupation ended in 1952, and it’s no coincidence that Kon Ichikawa’s Pu-san appeared the following year when the film industry was finally free of political restrictions for the first time in over a decade.
Ito with Daisuke Kato
In Pu-san, Ichikawa gleefully indulges in a vulgarity that would have been frowned upon in previous years, while also emphasizing the fact that idealism has little value in a world where people are struggling simply to get enough to eat and keep a roof over their heads. This situation enables employers to exploit workers like Noro (Yunosuke Ito), a downtrodden 39-year-old maths teacher whose boss (Daisuke Kato) gives him a stark choice: teach extra night classes with no additional pay, or leave. Noro is a classic ‘loser’ whose unassuming manner attracts bad luck – this crisis happens shortly after he has been knocked down by a truck in Ginza and injured his hand. A widower and war veteran, he lodges with a couple in their 50s and is in love with their 24-year-old daughter, Kanko (Fubuki Koshiji), but his feelings are not reciprocated, as he learns only too well after overhearing a conversation between Kanko and her mother through the paper-thin wall of his room. Meanwhile, Noro’s students are flirting with communism and his old friends are reduced to selling items on the black market…
Fubiki Koshiji, Daisuke Kato and Yoko Sugi
Such a scenario may not seem an obvious choice for comedy, but that’s exactly what this Toho production is – and a determinedly eccentric and anarchic one to boot. Based on a comic strip by Taizo Yokoyama (who makes a cameo appearance as a policeman), it’s unclear (at least to me) why Pu-san is referred to as Noro throughout the film. In any case, Ichikawa seems to be raising two fingers to the establishment here, and it’s probably the earliest Japanese film I’ve seen to have that ‘new wave’ vibe familiar from later pictures such as Shohei Imamura’s Pigs and Battleships (1959). It’s not at all funny but certainly ironic that the only way Noro can survive in the end is by taking a highly dubious job packing machine gun bullets.
Eiko Miyoshi, Kamatari Fujiwara and Fubiki Koshiji
Long-faced character actor Yunosuke Ito has not always played such meek and mild types, but proves to be a good choice in what was a rare leading role for him. However, I felt that Fubuki Koshiji (better known as a singer) stole the show here with her superb comic performance as the stubborn Kanko (a character originating in a separate comic strip by the same artist) – her facial expressions are often priceless.
Kaoru Yachigusa
Also notable in a remarkable ensemble cast featuring a number of Kurosawa regulars are Keiju Kobayashi as a young policeman, a very young-looking Kaoru Yachigusa as a nurse, Isao Yamagata as a friend of Noro’s fallen on hard times, Eiko Miyoshi as Noro’s opportunistic landlady, Kamatari Fujiwara as her more understanding husband, Yoko Sugi as Kanko’s best friend and, of course, the great Daisuke Kato as Noro’s nasty boss – the kind of guy who smiles and tells you it’s all for your own good while casually cutting your throat.
Daisuke Kato
Ably abetted by Kurosawa cameraman Asakazu Nakai, Ichikawa shows considerable invention throughout, often using extreme close-ups and unusual framing but, overall, I’d say that Pu-san is more in the nature of a fascinating oddity than a complete success – the first few scenes flit confusingly from one seemingly random group of characters to another and it remains all over the place until the end. In fact, I doubt I’ve seen another film with as many extraneous characters – a narrower focus would surely have been preferable.
Composer Toshiro Mayuzumi in a rare screen appearance with Fubiki Koshiji
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