Tom Birchenough reviews Alexander Sokurov's new film about Japan's controversial Emperor Hirohito.
By Anna Malpas Published: February 18, 2005
Russian audiences will have their first chance to see Alexander Sokurov's new film "The Sun" (Solntse) on Friday. The same day, the film screens to the jury at the Berlin International Film Festival -- and it looks like a safe bet that the work will win prizes at that event, where it is the only Russian film in the competition program.
Sokurov's name and reputation aside, "The Sun" is an astonishing work. Many have called it the director's best film to date. Already feted by local critics after its press screening last week, it may go down as the best Russian film not only of the year, but arguably of the decade.
The circumstances behind the film's production are no less remarkable than the result. It took almost eight years for Sokurov to bring the project to fruition. "The Sun" is set in Tokyo in 1945, and its central figure is Emperor Hirohito. The film is predominantly in Japanese, with a Japanese cast; although it was filmed in Russia, the visual style looks absolutely authentic. The only major non-Japanese element is the presence of U.S. forces, led by General Douglas MacArthur (Robert Dawson), with whom Hirohito established a working relationship that proved crucial during Japan's postwar reconstruction.
One of Sokurov's most impressive achievements is his ability to capture the essence of another culture. Among other challenges, this involves working in a foreign language. It is not the first time he has done this. "The Sun" is the third part of a projected tetralogy, loosely focused on the theme of power and the status of the leader-tyrant. The series began with "Moloch," which depicted the inner circle of Adolf Hitler; although Sokurov worked with a Russian cast, the film was in German. "Moloch" was followed by "Taurus," which showed the last days of Lenin, when he was consumed by illness and confined to his dacha. Intriguingly, the planned fourth and final film is an adaptation of Goethe's "Faust." Sokurov has said he envisages the project almost as a musical, with plenty of Strauss waltzes -- an unusual direction for the director.
At a press conference last week, Sokurov downplayed the difficulty of working within a foreign culture. "I never felt strange in Japan," the director said. "Instead I responded to the complicated character of the nation."
His initial doubt, he said, was whether he could persuade a Japanese cast to participate in the project. Traditionally, the idea of depicting the emperor on screen has been taboo in Japan. Sokurov's Japanese friends (he has worked in the country before on documentaries) said it would be impossible. In fact, the director found that a number of respected actors, mainly with a theater background, were interested in the project, and none refused casting.
"I felt it was important to take the Japanese actors away from their country, to isolate them from possible influences, so they felt more free and were more strongly concentrated on the task," Sokurov said. "They felt great responsibility, understanding that a film about the secrets and pain of the Japanese people was being made not by them, but by Russians."
Even the name of the film's main actor -- Issey Ogata, who plays Hirohito -- was kept secret until the last moment, out of respect for tradition. Soon it will be trumpeted on billboards worldwide, especially since Ogata looks like a prime contender for a major Berlin award. Ogata's remarkable performance is all the more notable for the fact that he is best known in Japan as a stand-up comedy and theater star, and his film work to date has been mainly in comedies.
In "The Sun," Ogata plays with a restrained dignity and poise that is all the more impressive for the fact that it is so understated. This reflects the quiet, bowing reverence in which his character, as the emperor, is held, as well as the dire circumstances of the time. The imperial palace has been bombed, and he is confined to its modest laboratory building -- for this soft-spoken individual, fluent in many languages, is a passionate marine biologist. As his nation collapses, he retains his interest in issues like the origin of rare sea crabs, as well as the regular writing of poetry.
Under Sokurov's direction, Hirohito -- a man who was treated with awe by those around him -- is transformed into a fully human being, whose reunion with his wife in the penultimate scene has an understated tenderness that is positively bruising. The film's closing scene, which follows Hirohito's radio broadcast renouncing his divinity, only accentuates the unexpected bravery of that act, one that provided a kind of catharsis that arguably helped his nation rebuild. The impact of the pronouncement was huge. As depicted in the film, the broadcast's sound recordist committed suicide immediately afterwards, his gesture unhindered by anybody in Hirohito's retinue. This is a detail that is all too true to life.
Some historians may disagree with the film's thesis that major war decisions, such as the bombing of Pearl Harbor, were not made by the emperor. In the end, however, this is unimportant, because "The Sun" displays an inner drama, rather than a political one. Even if parts of the imperial compound remain intact, even strangely tranquil, as the war goes on around it, the shock of Hirohito's journeys to see MacArthur remind him of the sheer devastation of the surrounding city. In a powerful early scene, its tension heightened by the sheer nervous sweatiness of those
present, the emperor meets members of his Cabinet in his bunker. The scene is played mostly by older actors, some of whom, Sokurov said, experienced the war as children and witnessed its destruction firsthand.
Inevitably, "The Sun" does have a political context, especially given its place in Sokurov's larger project. Humanizing Hitler was certainly a riskier step; but with "Moloch," his Hitler film, Sokurov approached it as a sort of manic dance of players caught up in an infernal game. With "Taurus," his Lenin film, Sokurov focused on the final days of a life shaped by illness and some regret.
With Hirohito, Sokurov said, the film focuses on the rare crossover between tyranny and peacemaking, one that was possible only because of the emperor's divine status. For the director, Hirohito's major act was his broadcast calling on his citizens to cease their resistance -- an act that saved the lives of people who were still prepared to die for the lost cause of imperial Japan.
"The idea of power being humane is new to Russia," the director said. "We have an idea of power being aggressive, and an entity that hates and does not understand its own people. We need to show other examples."
With the present situation in Russia and elsewhere, Sokurov's words ring true. In this respect, the character of MacArthur plays a similar role, for the general was another sort of peacemaker. MacArthur's commitment to his duty -- and his readiness to engage Hirohito, rather than simply indict him as a war criminal -- stands out.
The American presence in the film is not large, appearing mainly in the second half. It brings on moments that are culturally grating, though with a comic subtext. In one such moment, Hirohito has his first photo shoot with American photographers. At first the photographers mistake his majordomo for the emperor; then, they christen Hirohito -- based on his appearance -- Charlie Chaplin. The epithet is ironic, because we have previously seen the Emperor's devotion to Hollywood stars of an earlier decade.
Production details in "The Sun" are immaculate. Credit is due to all parties concerned, especially designers of all kinds. The score by composer (and co-producer) Andrei Sigle is a masterpiece, combining apocalyptic strains of Wagner, gentler melodies from Bach's cello suites and his own work, which is sometimes influenced by Japanese color. Finally, the fact that Sokurov worked as his own cinematographer is nothing less than frightening, given that the director has recently had increasing problems with his eyesight.
Co-produced by bodies in Russia, Italy and France, "The Sun" will receive well-deserved acclaim around the world. As he faces the decision of the Berlin jury, Sokurov is aware that the film has yet to be sold to Japan -- and he mentioned the possibility of a screening for the current emperor, Hirohito's son. There could be no greater test of the emotional veracity of his work. But, then again, there could be no greater endorsement.
http://context.themoscowtimes.com/stories/2005/02/18/101.html
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