Sunday, 2 February 2025

Why Did These Women Become Like This? / 何故彼女等はそうなったか / Naze kanojora wa so natta ka (aka Girls’ Reform School, 1956)

Obscure Japanese Film #163

Kyoko Kagawa and Masako Nakamura

Hiroko (Masako Nakamura), a new arrival who comes from a wealthy family but has begun behaving badly after discovering that she was an illegitimate child; Yoneko (Akiko Mie), who is secretly pregnant; Tomiko (Konomi Fuji), whose good behaviour at the school sees her sent back home only to receive a cold reception from her stepmother (Wakako Kunimoto), causing her to run away again and end up back at the reformatory; and Chiyo (Junko Ikeuchi), who is in danger of being sold into prostitution to a brothel-keeper (Chieko Naniwa, who I’m sure has played this type of role in a number of films).

Chieko Naniwa

 

Somewhat surprisingly, the film was based on a 1952 novel by a male author, Toshihiko Takeda 1891-1961). However, he had some experience in these matters, having co-founded the Association for the Improvement of Children in 1947 and established an actual ‘Girls’ Home’ in 1949 in Muragame

Kyoko Kagawa

The supposed bad behaviour of the girls seems pretty mild today – this is not exactly a female Scum – but, then, writer-director Hiroshi Shimizu clearly wants us to view them with unreserved sympathy. The real bad behaviour is on the part of the uncaring parents, etc, who made them this way, and the unforgiving, self-righteous communities who deny them a second chance. The Japanese aphorism deri kugi wa utareru (‘the nail that sticks out gets hammered down’) springs to mind here. 

 

Akiko Mie

The film certainly gets its message cross, but feels like fairly minor Shimizu. The religious-sounding choral music which sounds as if it has come from a corny Hollywood Christmas movie has not dated well, and the film misses a trick in failing to provide Miss Oda with any backstory, though Kyoko Kagawa gives her usual fine performance in a role similar to that which she played in the later picture The Human Wall (1959). The acting is pretty good across the board, in fact, though of the young actresses who play the girls only Junko Ikeuchi went on to stardom and sustained a long career.

Shimizu incorporates some symbolism into the film - the castle walls which form a backdrop for the opening credits suggest a safe place where the inhabitants are protected from the hostile world outside, while the girls' employment involves painting Okame masks, which represent a woman who brings good fortune to the man she marries. This is, of course, apt as the young women here are clearly hoping to emerge from the establishment with a more positive identity. 

Junko Ikeuchi and Masako Nakamura

 

Thanks to A.K.

3 comments:

  1. ...ah...this time i'll 'disagree', haha - i found it to be a truly special film :-)
    Not that much due to the feminine-oriented theme (although sure, that as well).
    Most reviews i've read around seemed to be focusing on the tracking shots here or there
    (ok, fair enough... but i'd think that's kinda expected from Shimizu).

    What impressed me the most personally was the way he framed the faces...absolutely impeccable.
    Although it never shouts it, this film is all about the face & it's 'appearance' / our perception of it,
    a thoroughly unpretentious exercise in a sort of humanist dialectics: faces as masks, masks as faces.

    Probably the most glaring example of such interplay in the film
    (and aside eg. from the 'handcrafted okame' element / subplot) ,
    is the shot with the girl & the handheld mirror, where this notion gets outright 'doubled' -
    to sound outright pseudo-philosophical, the scene's context contains both it's own negation & sublation:
    who is looking at what exactly over here?
    Is she just looking at her face? Is she further staring at her inner soul?
    Is it us, watching her look at one of the two above...and/or maybe both?
    Or also, maybe she just panned the mirror to...ourselves / the audience?
    Maybe - aside from all the above, she's also further looking at us watching ('judging') her?
    Birds' eye view there:
    we get to see the 'totality' in that single shot there, while being actively 'part' of it...just by watching the film.
    The mere fact that we are watching makes us responsible for our re-actions (and/or lack thereof), Shimizu says.
    Absolutely masterful - what a perfectly 'placed' shot within the flow of the film.

    Is all that naïveté turned up to eleven, or is it...the heart's wisdom? Shimizu is 110% confident that:
    "if you _really_ look carefully at one's 'face'...not only that person's inner beauty & true self will be revealed to you,
    but it will concurrently also be your own (social) perception that will be proven to have been a 'mask'..."

    Regardless of one's answer to such a question, one really _really_ can't get more humanist than that.

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  2. But more importantly, i doubt i've ever seen that worldview, in recent years at least, expressed with such clarity.
    Kore-eda came to mind at first...but he's a bit too self-consciously artistic to achieve that 'purity'.
    Shimizu though pulls that in an effortless manner, simply because...he outright believes it.
    Although he had far more 'militant' christian/pro-american convictions (and those come at a cost),
    maybe only Capra from the other side of the pond, had pulled something equivalent in certain films of his.
    No question to my mind that one could also historicize and further associate this 'naïveté / heart's wisdom',
    with a certain generation that actually lived through 2 world wars.

    Indeed. Moving forward, in 1966...
    one gets Teshigahara's 'The Face Of Another' from the homonymous 1964 Kobo Abe novel.
    Once again an interplay between faces & masks - but although only 10yrs later on, it feels like...decades have passed.
    Bye bye (social) humanism & perfected classicism...
    (you only get _a_single_one_ 'ambivalent' shot in Shimizu's film...and that's all that was _ever_ needed),
    now we're inside the (individual's) existentialism, and outright modernism in cinematic form.
    One's own self-perception now is far more of a central problem - more importantly, in this latter 'universe'...
    regardless of society's responsibility / reaction and gaze upon such, the individual subject is, by definition, broken-in-itself.
    For Teshigahara's film, one could easily further argue that such a point of departure / difference in it's core,
    can retroactively be seen as the distant (but far, far more well-grounded) 'grandfather',
    of what is nowadays widely known / discussed as 'identity politics'...

    If you want me to take it further, i'd say...from Teshigahara (existentialism), to Lynch (post-surrealism), up say to...Lanthimos (outright absurdism) - more or less the same notion that the subject is broken-in-itself, and acting 'irrationally' within an 'irrational world'.

    However, not *even* in the world of oldschool moralist film-noir is the subjects' fate that much pre-determined to be doomed. And it's even funnier, because in said films, things are also supposed to be far more reliant to randomness, coincidences, parallel realities/perceptions etc. There's certainly a glaring contradiction lying in there...

    And it's approx 60 yrs the very same song, in all kind of permutations: irrational subjects can only exercise irrational acts after all. Peculiar plastic surgeon operations...then hallucinations and nightmares...eventually they end up barking like dogs or transforming to lobsters & donkies...and whatever :-)

    I don't wanna sound like an advocate for neo-classicism or something, we're way way past that point after all. But for all it's possible faults, at this specific time / moment, somehow i find Shimizu's stance, not only far more responsible, but more 'needed' as well...

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    Replies
    1. Thanks for your insightful thoughts and analysis, Alice!

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