Daikon to ninjin / 大根と人参 / (‘Radishes and Carrots’, 1965)

 

Chishu Ryu

 

 

 

Yamaki (Chishu Ryu) is a typical middle-aged salaryman who has worked his way up into a comfortable senior management position. He’s been married to Nobuyo (Nobuko Otowa) for 28 years, has four adult daughters and is a creature of habit who rarely deviates from his daily routine. As his younger brother and subordinate co-worker Kosuki (Hiroyuki Nagato) says, he’s ‘as ordinary as radishes and carrots’. 

 

Hiroyuki Nagato and Nobuko Otowa

However, problems begin to pile up – a friend (Kinzo Shin) has cancer but hasn’t been told, Kosuki has embezzled money from the company and is expecting Yamaki to bail him out, and he’s been getting into increasingly aggressive arguments with his best friend, Suzuka (Isao Yamagata), to whose son his youngest daughter (Mariko Kaga) is sngaged. 

 

Isao Yamagata

Mariko Kaga

One day, his family are shocked when he fails to return from work. Unbeknownst to them, he’s gone off to Osaka, where he becomes involved with a cheerful call girl (Miyuki Kuwano) and her eccentric pimp (Daisuke Kato), who also has a Chinese medicine business he wants Yamaki to come in on with him…

 

Miyuki Kuwano

 

Daisuke Kato

This Shochiku comedy features an all-star cast which also includes Ineko Arima, Mariko Okada and Yoko Tsukasa as Yamaki’s other three daughters as well as Ryo Ikebe and Shima Iwashita, although some of these big names (especially Ikebe) are given precious little to do. At the beginning of the film, we’re presented with statistics informing us that over 80, 000 people go missing per year in Japan – a phenomenon which seems an odd topic for comedy. The film originated from an idea by Yasujiro Ozu, no less, who took his inspiration from a short story by Ryunosuke Akutagawa entitled ‘Yamagamo’, which centres around a quarrel between two old friends, and worked up a treatment with his regular collaborator Kogo Noda which remained unfinished. It seems likely that the theme of a man who goes missing was added later by credited screenwriters Yoshio Shirasaka and Minoru Shibuya, the latter of whom directed the film (his penultimate feature). 

 

Nobuko Otowa and Mariko Okada

 

Shima Iwashita

Although this is actually the first film I’ve seen by Shibuya, he was known for somewhat cynical comedies and it’s clear that Daikon to ninjin  is far closer to his usual style than it is to Ozu’s. In fact, one of the pleasures of the film is seeing its unlikely lead, Chishu Ryu, send up all those ‘perfect father’ roles he played for Ozu over the years. There’s also some surprisingly frank sexual dialogue that would not have been found in an Ozu picture. While Yamaki’s disappearance is not really given sufficient motivation, and the film does seem a rather messy, cobbled-together affair, it remains quite entertaining and likeable, and certainly worth a watch for anyone with an affection for the Japanese actors of the era.

Thanks to A.K. 

 

Sanshiro Sugata / 姿三四郎 (1965)

Obscure Japanese Film #101

Yuzo Kayama

According to Stuart Galbraith IV in his book The Emperor and the Wolf, this remake of Kurosawa’s debut film (about an early exponent of judo) and its sequel was motivated by the need to turn a quick profit after the inordinately lengthy and expensive production of Red Beard. However, this may not have been the only reason, as Sanshiro Sugata Part Two (1945) not only contained some badly dated anti-Western propaganda, but was actually considered a lost film at the time this remake was produced.* 

 

Toshiro Mifune

In any case, Kurosawa chose to co-produce the film, but not direct it, instead handing the reins over to the 42-year-old Seiichiro Uchikawa, who had been an assistant to an impressive range of directors, including Ozu, Kon Ichikawa, Hiroshi Shimizu and Kenji Mizoguchi. He had found Mizoguchi extremely difficult and eventually been fired by him after a dispute. Nevertheless, Uchikawa became a director himself in 1953. By the time Sanshiro Sugata went into production, he had already directed around 30 films – often also writing the screenplays – and gradually built up a decent reputation without breaking into the A-list. Most of these earlier films are inaccessible, the exceptions being the two immediately preceding this one, namely Tange Sazen (1963) and Samurai from Nowhere (1964). The latter of the two was especially well-received and was likely the reason why Kurosawa chose him as director of this remake. Unfortunately for Uchikawa, Sanshiro Sugata would not be received as positively, at least by the critics, and seems to have damaged his career as he did not direct another feature film until 4 years later; when finally given another chance, he was reduced to making a vehicle for the pop group known as The Tempters. In my opinion, that was unfair – while the remake lacks the panache that Kurosawa himself would no doubt have brought to it, in some ways it improves on the originals, benefitting from the use of widescreen, staging at least some of the fight sequences more effectively, and employing a stronger cast, and it’s certainly far more satisfying than Kihachi Okamoto’s1977 kiddie remake. Uchikawa was also somewhat straitjacketed by the obligation to follow Kurosawa’s blueprint, as Kurosawa made only minor changes to his originals and even had Uchikawa replicate the montage of the abandoned geta. 

Yunosuke Ito

 

Bokuzen Hidari

Tsutomu Yamazaki

Kurosawa further put his stamp on the film by filling the cast with his favourite actors. Yuzo Kayama (son of Ken Uehara) had just co-starred in Red Beard, and makes a good Sanshiro, being both convincing in the fight scenes and likeable in general. Toshiro Mifune is the perfect actor to play his mentor, Shogoro Yano, and it’s great to see him kicking ass at the beginning, hurling multiple assailants into a canal. Also ideal casting is Bokuzen Hidari as the comic priest who gives Sugata a hard time, while Yunosuke Ito and Tsutomu Yamazaki make effective bad guys, and even Takashi Shimura pops up, although his part is so brief it seems a mere token gesture. In the first film, Shimura had played ju-jitsu master Hansuke Murai, the part played here by Daisuke Kato (surprisingly convincing as a formidable martial artist!). 

Takashi Shimura

 

Daisuke Ito and Eiji Okada

Not Robert Shaw, but Eiji Okada

From outside the Kurosawa stable, Eiji Okada is impressive in a dual role as two of the brothers who are Sugata’s most dangerous opponents (as karate master Tesshin, he looks remarkably like Robert Shaw). The female characters are played by less familiar names – Yumiko Konoe is the love interest, while Chisako Hara** plays Yunosuke Ito’s vengeful daughter. Konoe’s main career has been as a singer, while Hara was the wife of director Akio Jissoji, and had a long career, but mainly played supporting roles in movies. Both are fine, but Hara has the more interesting role even though it’s much smaller than Konoe’s.

Chisako Hara

Yumiko Konoe

 

The high-contrast cinematography looks good throughout, while Yojimbo composer Masaru Sato provides a score which, ironically, seems to be imitating Ennio Morricone’s music for Sergio Leone’s unacknowledged Yojimbo remake, A Fistful of Dollars. The film’s main flaw is that it feels too long at two and a half hours, but otherwise it’s hard to imagine it could have been much improved on by a director other than Uchikawa – unless, of course, it were Kurosawa himself, or perhaps Masaki Kobayashi. On the evidence of the film alone, it’s hard to see why it should have been a career-killer for Uchikawa, although it’s entirely possible there are additional unknown factors which account for the sudden 4-year gap in his film career after this was released. Although this film has been largely ignored by critics, its current of rating of 7.4 on IMDb strongly suggests that most people who have seen it enjoyed it, and I would certainly encourage anyone interested to check it out if you have the chance.

 

*A print was subsequently discovered in Russia. 

**Chisako Hara is listed as two separate people on IMDb.

Joshu karasu / 上州鴉 ('Crow of Joshu', 1951)

Obscure Japanese Film #95

Denjiro Okochi

 

This Daiei production stars silent screen veteran Denjiro Okochi as Takizo, a wandering samurai and master swordsman who returns incognito to the town where he was born, hoping to shake off some men pursuing him. Once there, he meets Sahei (Koichi Katsuragi), a widowed farmer, to whom he will later confess that his mother (now deceased) was a maid who became pregnant by a criminal and had to give birth to him in a warehouse. 

Michiko Hoshi

 

Sahei has two daughters, Okimi (Michiko Hoshi) and Omitsu (Kazuko Takamori). Unable to pay the annual tax, Sahei asks government official Yamagataya (Ryanosuke Higashi) to take Omitsu in as an indentured servant instead. Yamagataya agrees, but secretly intends to pimp her out.

 

Kotaro Bando

 

Ramon Mitsusaburo

Meanwhile, Inoyuki (Kotaro Bando) visits a gambling den owned by Hikigoro (Ramon Mitsusaburo from The Mysterious Edogawa Ranzan) in an attempt to raise money so that his sick wife Okichi (Mitsuko Mito) can take a rest, but he loses and is tricked into signing Okichi over to Hikigoro. Observing the way the innocent townspeople are abused and cheated by the powerful and corrupt, Takizo decides that it’s time to for him to come out of hiding and intervene…

Mitsuko Mito

 

Based on an original work by Shintaro Mimura, the screenplay was written by Kaneto Shindo, who must not only have been the most prolific screenwriter of all time, but who also maintained an impressively high standard throughout his 70-year career. Director Taizo Fuyushima (1901-81) was new to me, but on this evidence he seems worthy of further investigation as Joshu karasu features excellent mobile camerawork courtesy of Yasukazu Takemura, some very well-co-ordinated and complex staging, a lively sense of rhythm in the editing and a strong ensemble cast, including that reliable old scene-stealer Daisuke Kato as a travelling con artist. 

Daisuke Kato

 

Atsushi Watanabe and Toshiaki Konoe

Atsushi Watanabe and Toshiaki Konoe are also great fun as a couple of oddball palanquin carriers, one of whom has a topknot with a life of its own. The fight scenes are well above-average for 1951, too – one even takes place in heavy rain, which would soon become a Kurosawa trademark (not the only time this film brought Kurosawa to mind). 

Denjiro Okochi

 

It’s a marvel how the Japanese cinema of this period appears to have been populated with an almost endless number of excellent directors of whom we’ve never heard. Taizo Fuyushima’s career stretched back to 1926 and he directed over 90 films, mainly period dramas, but he seems to be almost completely forgotten. After his retirement, he made kabuki paper dolls, at which he was considered a master, and took on a number of pupils.

Denjiro Okochi and Koichi Katsuragi

 

Watch on my YouTube channel (no subtitles)

 

The Romance of Yushima / 婦系図 湯島の白梅 / Onna keizu Yushima no shiraume (1955)

Obscure Japanese Film #90

Fujiko Yamamoto

 

Yushima, Tokyo, 1902. Otsuta (Fujiko Yamamoto) is a geisha who has left her profession to become the wife of promising young scholar Hayase (Koji Tsuruta), who is helping his mentor, Professor Sakai (Masayuki Mori), to compile the first German-Japanese dictionary. Otsuta and Hayase have not yet been married officially as Hayase is waiting for an opportune moment to tell the Professor about their union. Having lost his parents in the fire which destroyed much of downtown Shizuoka in 1889, Hayase was adopted by the Professor, and so is under a great obligation to him. However, as the Professor thinks highly of Hayase, the young couple are confident that he will approve their union even though Hayase is expected to marry the professor’s daughter, Taeko (Yoshiko [not Sumiko] Fujita). Unfortunately, Otsuta becomes implicated in a theft despite being innocent. When this is reported in the newspaper, Professor Sakai learns about the secret marriage and is furious, seemingly forgetting the similar relationship he had had in his own youth with Koyoshi (Haruko Sugimura), who is actually the madam at the geisha house where Otsuta had been employed…

Masayuki Mori

 

This Daiei production has the sort of determinedly tragic story that is (or at least was) especially popular in Japan. I found it rather clichéd and predictable, but it should be noted that it’s a faithful adaptation of a 1907 novel by Kyoka Izumi, so it’s quite possible that Izumi’s work felt fresh at the time and it was only when others copied aspects of it that they became clichés. What now seems a quaintly old-fashioned story was also once considered progressive in its attack on the institution of the arranged marriage. Although it’s not one of the few Izumi works to have been translated into English (he’s reputedly difficult to translate), it was one of his most popular and became a successful stage play only a year after publication. There had also been previous film versions – in 1934 with Kinuyo Tanaka and Joji Oka, followed by a two-part version in 1942 with Isuzu Yamada and Kazuo Hasegawa. Remakes followed in 1959 and 1962, while it was also adapted for television on a number of occasions, including in 1966 with Fujiko Yamamoto repeating her role.

Koji Tsuruta

 

The male lead, Koji Tsuruta, is not a name likely to ring many bells outside of Japan, but he was actually one of the country’s biggest male stars of the era. Some readers may know him for playing Toshiro Mifune’s opponent, Kojiro Sasaki, in Hiroshi Inagaki’s Samurai trilogy, or perhaps for his starring role in Kinji Fukasaku’s Sympathy for the Underdog (1971). He could probably relate well to the part he plays in The Romance of Yushima given that his own romance with actress Keiko Kishi was nipped in the bud in 1952 by Shochiku, the studio to whom he was under contract at the time. He attempted suicide shortly after, but fortunately survived only to be badly beaten by a yakuza member the following year because his manager had offended them. The attack had involved both a whisky bottle and a brick; Tsuruta required 11 stitches, but luckily was not disfigured and resumed his career, which continued almost until his passing from lung cancer in 1987. 

Haruko Sugimura

 

The performances in The Romance of Yushima are solid if unexceptional. The omnipresent Eitaro Ozawa also pops up as a colleague of Sakai’s, but it’s actually Daisuke Kato who steals it as a cheeky fishmonger sympathetic to Otsuta. 

Daisuke Kato

 

The print I saw was a just-about-watchable VHS transfer, so there’s no doubt that the film would benefit greatly from a higher quality digital version. However, I wouldn’t call it a lost masterpiece as the story hasn’t dated well and the music (a combination of choral singing, harp and strings) is overused and far from ideal. For those reasons, I feel that this is my least favourite of the films I’ve seen by director Teinosuke Kinugasa (the others being A Page of Madness, Gate of Hell, New Tales of the Heike: Three Women around Yoshinaka and Actress).

Note: the Japanese title translates as ‘Genealogy of Women: White Plum Blossoms of Yushima’

UPDATE: I’ve since seen Kenji Misumi’s 1962 version (also made for Daiei), which has Raizo Ichikawa as Hayase, the little-known Masayo Banri as Otsuta, Koreya Senda as the professor, Michiyo Kogure as Koyoshi, and Eiji Funakoshi as the fishmonger. Working from a new screenplay by Yoshikata Yoda, it changed a few details (e.g. Hayase is merely a random teenaged pickpocket the professor decides to adopt) but retained the basic story. Made in colour and widescreen by a director with a good eye, it looks more arresting, but ultimately fails to be any more compelling despite a great deal of emoting from the cast. 

Masayo Banri and Raizo Ichikawa

 

Koreya Senda

Michiyo Kogure

Eiji Funakoshi

Masayo Banri