Jakoman and Tetsu / ジャコ万と鉄 (1949)

 

Toshiro Mifune and Kamatari Fujiwara

 

 

Eitaro Shindo

Kyubei (Eitaro Shindo, better known as Sansho the Bailiff) has a herring-fishing business in Hokkaido and is anticipating the annual arrival of the fish when his son, Tetsu (Toshiro Mifune) – presumed missing in the war – unexpectedly turns up. Tetsu is surprised to find that one of the fishermen employed by his father just lies around all day drinking saké and refusing to work. The man in question is Jakoman (Ryunosuke Tsukigata), an aggressive individual with an eye-patch whom everyone is afraid of and who has a beef with Kyubei because Kyubei stole his boat to escape from Sakhalin island when the Japanese were chased out by the Russians at the end of the war. 

 

 

Meanwhile, a woman named Yuki (Yuriko Hamada) turns up in search of Jakoman, and it emerges that she’s in love with him despite the fact that he wants nothing to do with her and treats her roughly. In the midst of all this personal drama, the herring finally appear just as the men call a strike due to low pay…

 

 

Yuriko Hamada

This Toho production* was based on a 1947 novel entitled Nishin ryoba (‘Herring Fishing Grounds’) by Tokuzo Kajino (1901-84, sometimes incorrectly listed as ‘Keizo Kajino’ or ‘Shinzo Kajino’). The screenplay was co-written by the director, Senkichi Taniguchi, and Akira Kurosawa, with whom Taniguchi frequently collaborated during this stage in their careers, and its full of characteristic Kurosawa touches. One such is when Kyubei’s son-in-law (Kurosawa favourite Kamatari Fujiwara), an apparently slow-witted clerk given to hiccups and sneezing, plays the shakuhachi (bamboo flute) and moves everyone to tears, instantly clearing up the mystery of what his wife (Nijiko Kiyokawa) sees in him. Indeed, the script seems to have been largely the work of Kurosawa, with Taniguchi making some changes when he came aboard as director, and Kurosawa apparently brought the characters of Jakoman and Tetsu to the fore for the film, whereas the source novel had Kyubei as its main protagonist.  Concerning Taniguchi, it’s hard to take him very seriously as a director given the hokum that he made in the final years of his career, while the fact that so many of his other films are basically inaccessible means that he’s likely to be forever regarded as a footnote to Kurosawa (who was said to have done much of the editing on Taniguchi’s early films). 

 

Mifune – who has to perform a spectacularly weird song and dance which I bet embarrassed him – looks great and is effortlessly likeable as Tetsu, while Ryunosuke Tsukigata is almost too convincing as the villainous Jakoman, his one eye glinting with concentrated malevolence. Tsukigata had previously played two of the opponents in Kurosawa’s Sanshiro Sugata films and has a staggering 499 credits on the Japanese Movie Database. The female lead, Yuriko Hamada, also makes a strong impression even if her feisty character is tamed at the end. (Hamada’s fate remains a mystery – she made her final film in 1957 and nobody seems to know what happened to her after that.) Excellent use of locations and a fine score by Godzilla composer Akira Ifukube also help to make this an enjoyable watch. The main flaw of the film is that it lacks subtlety in the way it puts across its rather obvious moral message. 

 

Yoshiko Kuga

 

In regard to Kinji Fukasaku’s 1964 remake, while it was a good idea to replace the original film’s subplot of Tetsu falling in love with a girl he sees playing the organ in a Christian church** (played by an almost unrecognisably young Yoshiko Kuga) with one in which he falls in love with the sister of a deceased comrade whose family he visits, in my opinion that was the only thing that the remake did right. Aside from that, everything that was good about the first film has evaporated in Fukasaku’s tedious version, which seems to have been a vanity project initiated by its star, Ken Takakura. Unfortunately, that’s the one which is available in a very nice limited Blu-Ray from 88 Films.

The original film was a box office success and spawned a sequel entitles Jiruba Tetsu (1950) again starring Mifune, Yuriko Hamada and Eitaro Shindo and co-written by Kurosawa but directed by Isamu Kosugi and produced by Tokyo Eiga. 

 

*Actually, although it was distributed by Toho and bears the Toho logo at the beginning, the following title card announces the film as a ’49 Years production’. It seems to be the only film credited thus, something which appears to be a result of the labour dispute that was going on at Toho at the time. Perhaps the strike called by the men in the film was partly a comment on the situation, but though the fishermen settle their differences with Kyubei, that was sadly not to be the case at the studio.

**According to ‘I Love Jakoman’ on Amazon Japan,

… it was Taniguchi's idea for Tetsu to fall in love with the church girl, and upon hearing it, Akira Kurosawa reportedly remarked, "That stinks." (Taniguchi himself said this at a Taniguchi Film Screening).

Only Kurosawa and Taniguchi are credited with the screenplay for the 1964 remake, but it’s unclear whether either had any involvement in the changes made.

Watched without subtitles

 

Yuriko Hamada

 

Flower-Picking Diary / 花つみ日記 / Hana-tsumi nikki (1939)

Hideko Takamine

 

 

 Mitsuru (Misako Shimizu) is a girl from Tokyo whose family have just moved to the Soemoncho district of Osaka. She’s in her early-mid teens and her mother is a Christian. When she begins attending her new school, she soon becomes best-friends with classmate Eiko (Hideko Takamine), who used to live in Tokyo herself when she was small. Her family have a business training maiko (apprentice geisha) to sing, dance and play instruments. When the two girls come up with a plan to make a gift together with which to surprise their kindly teacher (Kuniko Ashihara) on her birthday, a misunderstanding ensues and they fall out. Both girls are miserable as a result, and Eiko gets to the point where she can’t even face school anymore, so she drops out to become a maiko herself…

 

Misako Shimizu

 

Produced by Toho Eiga before they became known simply as Toho from 1943, Flower-Picking Diary was based on a story by Nobuko Yoshiya (1896-1973). Being both a Christian and a lesbian, she wrote from an unusual perspective for a Japanese author of the time, but her books were highly popular with female students – so much so, in fact, that there had already been around 30 movies based on her work. The main source of this particular picture is a story entitled ‘Tengoku to maiko’ (‘Heaven and maiko’) from her 1936 collection Chisana hanabana (Little Flowers), but it seems that some elements may have been borrowed from other stories by Yoshiya as the story of the film (as adapted by female screenwriter Noriko Suzuki) differs considerably. The main difference is that there is apparently no falling out between the two girls in the original – a fact I found quite surprising considering that this is absolutely central to the film. Indeed, the extent to which it should be interpreted as the story of a lesbian love is debatable  – there’s certainly nothing overt – but it’s certainly a film about friendship and the devastating feelings that can occur when two close friends fall out. It’s difficult to think of other examples of films dealing seriously with broken friendships, but this one is very moving once it gets going (there may be rather too much singing of sentimental songs in the earlier stages). 

 

 

The shadow of war looms large over the film, and the scenes of largely unquestioning and joyful celebration when Mitsuru’s brother gets called up have not dated well, but are revealing of their time. (Incidentally, Nobuko Yoshiya’s reputation suffered somewhat after the war as she was said to have toed the authoritarian government line a little more than necessary.) Ironically, though, it’s the war that gives some hope for the future of Eiko and Mitsuru’s friendship as Eiko decides to make a senninbari for Mitsuru’s brother, which involves her standing at the bridge on Shinsaibashi Street and asking passing women to sew a stitch to make up the 1000 needed for this type of amulet belt.

 

 

Hideko Takamine was 15 when she made this, but already an old pro who had made dozens of films since her film debut in 1929 at the age of 5. Her co-star, Misako Shimazu, was a very young-looking 20 years of age, and was featured in a few other films but disappeared from the screen after 1941. Takamine may well have related to her role more than usual here as, shortly before making the film, like Eiko, she had been forced to leave school and pursue a career she did not particularly care for (acting in movies was something she felt obliged to do as no less than nine family members were relying on her financially).

The sensitive direction is by Tamizo Ishida (1901-72), who made around 90 films between 1926 and 1947, but the only other one which is relatively easy to find in decent quality with English subtitles is Fallen Blossoms (1938).

BONUS TRIVIA: If the actor playing Eiko’s father looks familiar, that’s probably because it’s Eitaro Shindo, who went on to play the title role in Kenji Mizoguchi’s masterpiece Sansho Dayu (1954)

Some of the information above comes from a review on Amazon Japan by ‘Beautiful Summer.’

Thanks to A.K.

DVD at Amazon Japan

 

 

The Horse Boy / 暴れん坊街道 / Abarendo kaido (1957)

Obscure Japanese Film #122

Shuji Sano

 

Isuzu Yamada

Yosaku (Shuji Sano) is a low-ranking samurai employed at Yurugi Castle in Tanba Province. He has a secret affair with Shigeno (Isuzu Yamada), the daughter of senior retainer Inaba Kotayu (Kenji Usuda). When she becomes pregnant, he is banished from the castle, while she gives birth to a baby boy, but is not allowed to keep him and has to watch helplessly as he is taken away. Shigeno is then assigned to act as wet nurse and carer for another infant – a new-born princess. 

Motoharu Ueki

 

Ten years pass, and Yosaku has become a wandering ronin. While travelling, he hires a horse from Sankichi (Motoharu Ueki), a precocious urchin who gambles and smokes a pipe. Looking for somewhere to rest up, Yosaku is taken to an inn next to the little shack in which Sankichi lives. Yosaku becomes friendly with the boy as well as with Koman (Shinobu Chihara), a young woman who works at the inn. 

Shinobu Chihara with Ueki an Sano

 

When a procession from Yurugi Castle passes through, it gets delayed when the young princess has a tantrum and jumps out of her palanquin. Shigeno fails to persuade her to get back in so they can continue her journey, but the princess discovers Sankichi gambling by the side of the road and is drawn to him, with the result that Sankichi is asked to accompany the retinue to the castle. Shigeno is shocked to discover that Sankichi is in possession of the omamori (amulet) she had tied around her son’s neck when forced to let him be taken from her all those years before… 

 

The screenplay was adapted by Yoshikata Yoda (best known for his many screenplays for Kenji Mizoguchi) from a jurori* entitled The Night Song of Yosaku from Tamba (Tamba Yosaku machiyo no komurobushi) by Monzaemon Chikamatsu (1653-1725), the dramatist later portrayed by Chiezo Kataoka in Chikamatsu’s Love in Osaka (1959). That film was, of course, directed by Tomu Uchida, as was The Horse Boy.

With a new emphasis placed on the character of Sankichi, this Toei production seems to have been intended mainly as a vehicle for child actor Motoharu Ueki, who was the eldest son of Chiezo Kataoka, a legendary actor and great favourite of Tomu Uchida. Kataoka had been the star of Uchida’s first post-war film, Bloody Spear at Mount Fuji (1955), and went on to appear in a further nine films for him, while Ueki had also appeared in that film as well as Uchida’s The Kuroda Incident (1956) and Rebellion from Below (1956) and would also be featured in The Eleventh Hour (1957).

Shigeno lives in a world of extremely refined manners in which etiquette dominates behaviour and rebellion is unthinkable, while the abandoned Sankichi has no manners at all and does what he likes. Uchida makes much of this contrast between the two very different worlds they inhabit. Unfortunately, my personal reaction was that Sankichi’s rude behaviour did not endear him to me at all, and for this reason I was never as moved as I felt I was probably supposed to be by this film, which I would definitely consider a minor work in Uchida’s filmography. I felt that Uchida saved his best bit of direction for a scene which occurs late in the film and takes place on a quiet road at night when a confrontation between Yosaku and the local moneylender (Eitaro Shindo) turns violent. Incidentally, Shindo is the stand-out among the supporting cast and could always be relied upon to play a man-you-love-to-hate effectively. 

Sano confronts Eitaro Shindo

 

It’s worth noting that, while Chikamatsu’s original apparently had a happy ending, Uchida’s film does not, and perhaps this is because he preferred to make it clear that the unforgiving rules of Japan’s former feudal society had ruined a lot of lives. 

Note on the title: The Japanese title translates as something like ‘Wild Child of the Road’.

*Wikipedia defines jurori as “a type of sung narrative with shamisen accompaniment, typically found in bunraku, a traditional Japanese puppet theatre”.

Watched without subtitles. 

David Baldwin has subsequently written a more detailed analysis of the film which can be found here.

 

Tarao Bannai - Thirteen Demon Lords / 多羅尾伴内 十三の魔王 / Tarao Bannai – Juzo no mao (aka The Man with Thirteen Eyes, 1958)

Obscure Japanese Film #96

Chiezo Kataoka as Tarao Bannai

When a nightclub singer is killed under mysterious circumstances at a racetrack, master detective Tarao Bannai (Chiezo Kataoka) adopts a number of disguises in an attempt to unmask the killer. The suspects include Dr Izumaru (Eitaro Shindo), his wife (Mieko Takamine), his assistant (Michiko Hoshi), the dead girl’s ex-lover (Ken Takakura), crooked businessman Togame (Takashi Shimura) a nightclub owner (Masao Mishima), and a nightclub hostess (Mitsuko Miura). 

Michiko Hoshi

 

Eitaro Shindo

Masao Mishima

Mitsuko Miura

The character of Tarao Bannai was created for the movies in 1946 by screenwriter Yoshitake Hisa (1904-81) in order to provide a new vehicle for veteran star Chiezo Kataoka. After the war, the occupying Americans had banned sword-fighting films in the belief that they encouraged feudalism, leaving Kataoka unable to perform the type of roles for which he was famous. Fortunately for Kataoka, the first film was a hit with the public if not with the critics.  He starred in four Tarao Bannai pictures for Daiei in the late ‘40s; when he later fell out with the studio, he made a further seven films featuring the character for Toei between 1953 and 1960. Thirteen Demon Lords was the first of these to be shot in colour and widescreen, and perhaps for that reason it boasts a remarkably strong cast including a young Ken Takakura, veteran star and respected actress Mieko Takamine, and Kurosawa favourite Takashi Shimura. However, despite such stiff competition, this is Kataoka’s show all the way. 

Ken Takakura

 

Mieko Takamine

Takashi Shimura

 

Outside of Japan, Chiezo Kataoka is perhaps best-known for his leading roles in a number of Tomu Uchida films, the most widely-seen of which is probably Bloody Spear at Mount Fuji, though he also played the nihilistic samurai Ryunosuke Tsukue in Uchida’s three-film version of the novel Daibosatsu Toge – a character later immortalised by Tatsuya Nakadai in Sword of Doom. He was a wonderfully versatile actor as we can see from his performance (or performances) in Thirteen Demon Lords. Although the disguises that his character adopts (an Indian magician, a beatnik artist, etc) are often utterly ridiculous, the extent to which Kataoka not only changes his appearance, but subtly alters his voice and body language each time is impressive. If it’s not too confusing, it should perhaps be noted that the character of Tarao Bannai himself is actually another alter-ego – the ‘real’ person behind the different faces is one Daizo Fujimura, a former jewel thief who has turned his back on his criminal past to become a crusader for justice. 

Chiezo Kataoka

 

Chiezo Kataoka

Kataoka as Daizo Fujimura

With its unlikely nick-of-time escapes and evil criminal mastermind who relishes the use of poison gas and dripping acid, this recalls the serials of the 1920s and ‘30s and is, of course, pure hokum, but it’s also pretty good fun if you’re in the mood. However, I’m not sure I’d want to sit through the other ten movies in the series as they apparently followed a pretty rigid formula, with Bannai adopting the same number of disguises each time (always seven) and departing in the same manner at the end of each film, although this very repetition seems to have become an element that the Japanese audiences of the time enjoyed.

Director Sadatsugu Matsuda (1906-2003) directed most of the entries in the series and divided his time between this sort of film and chanbara flicks. The character was briefly revived for two films in 1978 starring Akira Kobayashi, but did not catch on.

Watched with dodgy subtitles.