Osho /王将 (‘King of shogi’, 1962)

Obscure Japanese Film #106

 

Rentaro Mikuni

This Toei production stars Rentaro Mikuni as Miyoshi Sakata (1870-1946), an illiterate sandal-maker who went on to become the top player of shogi, a Japanese board game similar to chess. When we first meet him, he’s living by the railroad tracks in the Tennoji area of Osaka around 1900, and he’s so obsessed with shogi that he neglects his wife and children even when the family are struggling to get by. The only things that he can read are the characters on the shogi pieces. 

 

Chikage Awashima

He and his wife Koharu (Chikage Awashima) are followers of the Nichiren sect of Buddhism, but she is more devoted than he; in her despair, she frequently picks up an uchiwa taiko (fan drum) and chants namu-myoho-renge-kyo in an effort to improve their karma (the unhappy wife who seeks solace in this particular form of religion became something of a cliché in Japanese films and may well have originated in the 1947 play by Hideji Hojo upon which this film is based, although the real-life Sakata family were apparently not members of this sect). 

 

Mikijiro Hira

After Sakata loses a game to Kinjiro Sekine (Mikijiro Hira) on a technicality, things get so bad that Koharu comes close to committing suicide on the railway tracks with their children. When her husband realises what he’s nearly driven her to, he throws his shogi board and pieces onto the tracks and vows to give up the game forever. However, shortly after this occurs, a couple of shogi enthusiasts (Taiji Tonoyama and Norio Hanazawa) arrive, announcing they have decided to sponsor Sakata, and his career resumes. As the years pass, he finds himself pitched against his arch-rival Sekine on a number of further occasions, and gradually becomes the leading shogi player in the country, improving his family’s financial situation in the process – but at what cost?

Taiji Tonoyama and Yoshiko Mita

 

This was director Daisuke Ito’s third go at this story. His first had been in 1948 with Tsumasaburo Bando in the lead, and his second in 1955 with Ryutaro Tatsumi (who had originated the role on stage). The film opens with an impressive crane shot of a bustling market lasting nearly two minutes and featuring hundreds of extras (including Tetsuro Tanba as a candy floss seller at the very beginning!).

Tetsuro Tanba

 

Ito is adept at the staging and blocking of scenes, and we are treated to some great camerawork throughout, while Akira Ifukube’s music is also effective. The sets are extremely well-designed and detailed, even featuring a convincing replica of the original Tsutentaku (a tower with neon lights) which overlooked Sakata’s neighbourhood from 1912-43. However, Ito’s weakness, in my opinion, lies in his direction of actors, and he frequently allows or perhaps encourages them to go over the top, a flaw which is certainly evident here. 

Tsutentaku, Mikuni and Awashima

 

Rentaro Mikuni was a highly talented actor, but also an eccentric. In Osho, he gurns and whines his way through his performance, hacking up phlegm and affecting a grating, high-pitched voice. The fact that Sakata also gets physically violent with his grown-up daughter Tamae (Yoshiko Mita) when she tells him a few home truths means that he’s not only incredibly irritating, but entirely unsympathetic too, and in my view this is highly detrimental to the movie. Nevertheless, Mikuni seems to have had a hit in the role and appeared in a sequel (directed by Junya Sato) the following year (based on the play’s two sequels, I believe). It’s also worth noting that the real Sakata was said to have been a dandy rather than the scruffy slob portrayed here. 

Yoshiko Mita

 

The rest of the cast are generally fine, though even Chikage Awashima overdoes it at one point. As Sekine, Mikijiro Hira’s role feels underwritten and he’s left with little to do – presumably this part was beefed up a bit for Tatsuya Nakadai when he played the role in Hiromichi Horikawa’s 1973 remake opposite Shintaro Katsu (which, unlike this version, has Sakata suffering from an eye disease as he did in real life, possibly because Katsu had a knack for playing the visually-impaired). 

Sonny Chiba

 

A young Sonny Chiba appears towards the end as one of Sakata’s disciples; the other is played by Hideo Murata, who had scored a huge hit a year earlier singing a song also entitled ‘Osho’ and concerning the life of Sakata (perhaps it was that success which had led to this version).

If only Ito could have reigned Mikuni in a bit, this film might have been a true classic.

Downpour / 土砂降り/ Doshaburi (1957)

Obscure Japanese Film #100

Mariko Okada

This Shochiku production stars Mariko Okada as Matsuko, a young office worker in a relationship with a colleague, Kazuo (Keiji Sada). They’re a model couple and their boss approves of the match so much that he encourages them to get married. They agree, but there’s a problem – Matsuko has lied to Kazuo about her background, saying that her father is dead and her mother runs an inn. In fact, her father (So Yamamura) is very much alive, but mostly absent because Matsuko’s mother, Tane (Sadako Sawamura), is actually his mistress. Furthermore, the inn she runs, where Matsuko also lives together with her younger brother (Masami Taura) and sister (Miyuki Kuwano) is actually more like a love hotel, used by most of the guests simply as a convenient place for their illicit liaisons. When the truth comes out, the young couple’s plans are derailed, leading to tragedy. 

 

Keiji Sada

The subject matter of Downpour was considered risqué at the time, and it received an adults-only classification as a result. Based on a 1952 play by Hideji Hojo, it shows the devastating consequences that having children by a mistress can have on those children. However, one of the strengths of the film is its refusal to make a villain out of Matsuko’s father, Okubo. He’s portrayed as a decent man who is himself something of a victim here – both of circumstances and of his own poor decisions. Perhaps the real cause of the tragedy that unfolds is not Okubo, but the judgmental nature of the society within which all of the characters are trapped. The inn where most of the family live is in fact hemmed in on one side by the railroad tracks, and steam trains seem to be an important metaphor or symbol which runs throughout the movie, perhaps representing an unstoppable force which cannot be resisted, or possibly a portent of doom. 

 

The cast is uniformly excellent, and it’s especially satisfying to see the great Mariko Okada in a well-written role which makes good use of her talent as the Matsuko we see towards the end of the film is very different from the one we saw at the beginning. While watching, I thought that Shin Saburi was giving a surprisingly non-wooden performance for a change, but then I realised it was actually So Yamamura. These two actors look so similar that I’m sure I can’t be the only one who confuses the two.

So Yamamura

 

For me, this was a stronger film from director Noboru Nakamura than the previously-reviewed Home Sweet Home or Portrait of Chieko, and the non-intrusive music by Toru Takemitsu and dark, shadowy cinematography of Hiroyuki Nagaoka were both excellent choices. 

Okada with Sadako Sawamura

 

 

The Flute-Playing Warrior / 笛吹若武者 / Fuefuki wakamusha (1955)

Obscure Japanese Film #98

Hibari Misora

This Toei production set in the Heian period stars singing sensation Hibari (‘Skylark’) Misora as Princess Tamaori, a young noblewoman who travels to Kyoto with her mother, Lady Tsubaki (Chiaki Tsukioka), to meet her estranged father, Lord Tsunemori (Makoto Usami), for the first time. On the way, she stops to sing a song and attracts the attention of Prince Atsumori (Hashizo Okawa), a music-loving member of the Heike clan who whips out his flute and joins her in a duet. It’s a case of love at first sight, but when she reaches Kyoto, she’s shocked to learn that Atsumori is her half-brother by a different mother. 

 

Chiaki Tsukioka

Meanwhile, her mother is having an affair with Lord Tokitada (Masao Hori), a wily schemer who has a plan to gain power and influence by arranging a marriage between Tamaori and Konoe Motomichi (Akashi Ushio), the chief advisor to the Emperor. Atsumori has his own troubles, too – he's being pursued by Princess Katsura (Michiko Hoshi), who is determined to marry him and won’t take no for an answer. As these personal affairs become increasingly problematic, war breaks out between the Heike clan and their rivals, the Genji clan…

 

Hashizo Okawa

Although technically this could be labelled a musical, there are no big Hollywood-style production numbers, just occasional pauses for Hibari to sing part of a song. Like her counterpart Chiemi Eri (born the same year), Hibari also had some acting ability, and she’s especially convincing in a scene towards the end in which she suffers an emotional breakdown. For the rest of the picture, she seems more subdued than usual, perhaps because she’s playing quite an unhappy character. On the other hand, maybe she was just knackered as she was starring in ten films a year at this point. In any case, it’s Michiko Hoshi who steals the film here as her tactless, insinuating, bitchy rival. She comes as something of a breath of fresh air in contrast to the other characters, who are mostly solemn and rather dull, especially the flute-playing warrior himself. At the time of writing, Michiko Hoshi is still with us at the age of 97.

 

Michiko Hoshi

The literary source is a play by Hideji Hojo (1902-96), who based many of his works on The Tale of Genji, which seems also to have been the case here. The director, Yasushi Sasaki (1908-93), was a veteran who specialised in period films and directed around 20 Hibari vehicles. With a reputation for working quickly and making commercially successful movies, he was highly valued by the studios he worked for, but made little dent on film history. Nevertheless, The Flute-Playing Warrior remains an enjoyable piece of entertainment from a bygone era.