Film Review - The Rickshaw Man (1958)

THE RICKSHAW MAN

The original Japanese title is “Muhomatsu no Isshou,” meaning “The Life of Wild Matsu,” but its Western title is “The Rickshaw Man.” This essay will focus more on content and the social context of the film. “The Rickshaw Man,” directed by Inagaki Hiroshi and released in April 1958, is a remake of the 1943 movie with the same title. The studio is the Toho Company, the aspect ratio is 2.35 : 1; Color, and the running time is 103 minutes (IMBd). I have not been able to find much information on the 1943 original; many of the pages with information on either film are copied verbatim from Wikipedia. I did find, however, find that Inagaki also made the original and remade the film so it would be in color. It seems the two are much the same, if not the exact same, film, merely updated. Inagaki’s 1958 edition won The Venice Film Festival’s Golden Lion award the same year it was released in Japan.

Inagaki, along with Itami Mansaku and Iwashita Shusaku, wrote the film, Tanaka Tomoyuki produced the film, the music was composed by Dan Ikuma, and the cinematographer was Yamada Kazuo. The main cast members are: Mifune Toshiro as the title character Matsugoro, Akutagawa Hiroshi as Captain Kotaro Yoshioka, Takamine Hideko plays the captain’s wife Yoshiko, Matsumoto Kaoru as their son Toshio when he is young, and Kasahara Kenji plays young adult Toshio. A couple of side characters are: Otora the Innkeeper played by Iida Chouko, Yuki Shigezo played by Ryu Chishu, and Tanaka Haruo as Kumakichi (IMBd). Our class should recognize Mifune Toshiro as Kikuchiyo from Seven Samurai and Tajomaru in Rashomon for those who have seen it. Mifune obviously does very well portraying a very masculine, rough around the edges male, but his portrayals are nuanced. Although Kikuchiyo was the same type of character as Matsu, born into a lower class, overly boisterous at times, but with a heart of gold, the two are still distinct characters in my mind. Ryu Chishu does not appear long in “The Rickshaw Man,” but is instantly recognizable as Shukichi from Tokyo Story. This is the first time I have watched Ryu in a film other than the Tokyo Story and he gives the same impression; his characteristic speech patterns (like ‘monja’) are present and he is again portraying an upper class man, some kind of noble. Takamine has not shown up in class, but apparently was a well known actress starting from childhood and sometimes billed as Japan’s Shirley Temple (Wikipedia). “The Rickshaw Man” is Inagaki’s thirtieth film (McDonald, 66).

“The Rickshaw Man” is a gendai-geki, what Richie calls a contemporary film, set in the Meiji era, around the very early 1900’s. The Meiji era included the restoration of the Emperor to power and Japan’s rapid modernization. The film skips ahead in time at one point to 1918 and at that time, the son Toshi is just finishing high school and enters college which means I estimate the early sections of the film to take place between 1906 to 1910. That puts the film shortly after the Russo-Japanese War which concluded in1905. Comedic at times, the film is mostly a romantic drama. The protagonist of the film is poor rickshaw man “wild” Matsu who sees an injured boy, Toshio, and takes him home. Toshio is the son of an upper class couple, the Yoshioka family, and Matsu quickly befriends them. Captain Yoshioka hires Matsu to take his son to and from school and perform various tasks for the family from cleaning to singing. Captain Yoshioka soon passes away which leaves widow Yoshiko to raise Toshio with some help from Matsu. The three grow close of the years and although Matsu grows strong feelings for Yoshiko, he knows he cannot act on his feeling because of the gap between classes. After Toshio leaves for college, Matsu can no longer bear to hold back and decides to leave. Matsu is soon found dead in the snow from drinking too much and the locals, including Yoshiko, lament that such a good man was driven to his end like that.

Overall, the film was received very well with audiences outside Japan and I imagine because of its story and the way it is handled, inside Japan as well. In his review summary on the New York Times site, writer Brian Whitener describes the film as “a sentimental favorite of Japanese cinema” (NYT Rickshaw Summary). The reviews I found and my experiences mostly concur; although the film was predictable, it appeals through its sympathetic characters and style. In a New York Times review of the film from May 1960, reviewer A.H. Weiler agrees, stating “With the aid of Kazuo Yamada’s sensitive and imaginative color photography, generally fine portrayals by his principals and an appropriately tinkling, flute-filled background musical score, he has fashioned a feature that may be old-fashioned in concept but is truly heartwarming and captivating in its tender and compassionate views of the lives of its unaffected country folk” (Weiler, NYT 1960). I had a similar experience viewing the film each time.

Viewers could easily tell that Matsu would fall for Yoshiko once her husband has passed and also that Matsu would struggle both because of the class difference and his sense of obligation to Captain Yoshioka. It also likely came as no surprise to both Japanese and Western viewers when Matsu ultimately decides to behave honorably and dies from grief instead. However, as Weiler said, the color livens up the film. In Film Noir genre films like “Branded to Kill,” it could be in color and the audience would not notice much because it uses the same kind of light contrasts and atmosphere as when the films are in black in white. In “The Rickshaw Man,” color enlivens the whole film and brightens already lively characters. Several festivals take place in the film and significantly add to atmosphere from the red of the taiko drum to the blue and grey of Matsu’s clothing. Color helped to emphasize the solemn stillness of Matsu’s body in the final scene in comparison to his usual animated behavior throughout the film. The cold, white of the snow, symbolizing Matsu’s purity and innocence, in Matsu’s final scenes in contrast to the vivid green plants and scenery we often saw as Matsu worked happily for the Yoshioka family. Additionally, Inagaki often used the spinning wheels of Matsu’s rickshaw to transition between scenes. The wheels overlapped and moved as the movie changed scenes, but this changes to mark Matsu’s passing. To show Matsu’s downward spiral into alcoholism, Inagaki mixes previous scenes of Matsu’s happy times with the family into a slightly color distorted montage of the past and Matsu’s drunk thoughts. The colors were inverted for much of the montage and made a powerful impression of just how messed up his mindset must have been as he drunk himself to death. I actually am not sure if the color inversion was deliberate due to the quality of the videotape, but if it was not, much of what I said here still stands. In the brief glimpses of normal colored sections of the montage, color was still important.

The characters are likable and relatable; the characterization of each character is what gives this film much of its emotional power. Matsu often speaks carelessly and gets into fights, but his rough edges are softened by his obvious compassion for others. When we first meet him, Matsu is getting into fights at the theater, but immediately backs down when Yuki Shigezo, a noble of some sort, intercedes. When Yuki points out that Matsu is troubling his and Yuki’s reputation, Matsu instantly and profusely apologizes, settling the matter. Furthermore, when Matsu brings Toshio home and to the doctor after he finds him injured, he refuses any reward from the mother Yoshiko. At this point in the film, Matsu and the Yoshioka family had not met before, so Matsu was refusing because he did not want a reward for wanting to help. Matsu is in many ways an “ideal Japanese male.” Although low born and rough spoken, he is respectful of his superiors, works hard for others rather than himself, and cheerfully accepts life as it is up until the end. The high point of his masculinity is the taiko drum scene, a raw display of strength and power. Interestingly and deliberately, Matsu’s high point is followed by his lowest point and ensuing demise. Post mortem, Matsu’s selflessness is accentuated when it is discovered by the locals that as poor as he was, he submitted money to the bank in the Yoshioka family’s name. Captain Yoshioka commands respect as a captain who recently fought and earned his position, but he is also shown to be good natured, part of what inspires loyalty from Matsu. Captain Yoshioka enjoys Matsu’s boisterous nature rather than becoming offended. Toshio begins as the “crybaby,” spoiled only child, but is as cute and eager to learn as any little boy. He shows some embarrassment when Matsu yells exuberantly at a festival race, but Toshio quickly grows excited and cheers Matsu on. He grows into a surly teenager, but shows himself to be good student and to have learned something from Matsu’s example. Finally, Yoshiko is the soft spoken, elegant, feminine counterpart to Matsu. She commits herself fully to the mother role and strives to do her best to raise Toshio after his father passes. Her brother brings news of a new prospective marriage, but Yoshiko declines for the sake of Toshio. She worries how a new husband would distress her son and so having already professed feeling lonely, she turns the proposal down. Inagaki skillfully evokes strong emotions from the audience by creating sympathetic characters that draw on classic and familiar character types.

Societal expectations are a core part of the film; there would be no plot without the obstacle of class. The film does not challenge societal expectations; on the contrary, a great deal of the sympathy Matsu’s situation garners is specifically because he takes the high road and never acts on his feelings. Part of Matsu’s charm is that he does go against societal expectations at times by brawling and his general boisterousness at social events. His acts, however, are small transgressions and either laughed off as his earnest nature or Matsu apologizes when he feels he has wronged someone. Keiko McDonald, in her book “Reading a Japanese Film: Cinema in Context,” gives a short assessment of “The Rickshaw Man.” She says “Class is a barrier that cannot be crossed. Loyalty to his betters, in this case dead and alive, means the rickshaw man must choose giri (social obligation) over ninjo (personal inclination).” Because Matsu greatly respects both Captain Yoshioka and Yoshiko and he is of a lower class, there was no way Matsu could make any overtures to Yoshiko without going against his duties to her and her late husband. Matsu is nothing if not loyal and dedicated; his character would have changed dramatically, and for the worse, if he transgressed the barrier of class. Inagaki makes us wish Yoshiko and Matsu could be together even though we know better. It is important to note that Inagaki does not seek to upset the viewer or make people want class barriers. The film honors Matsu’s loyalty and actions even as his passing and situation are mourned.

Through a traditional story, set of characters, and the re-visitation of the age old giri versus ninjo argument, “The Rickshaw Man” appeals to both Japanese and Western audiences. Although the ending of the film is poignant, much of the film is spent enjoying Matsu’s antics and his and Yoshiko’s efforts to raise Toshio properly. Director Inagaki clearly caters to the audience; the comedy and festivals are uplifting, the music fits as background, and not a single character in the film is truly unlikeable or blamable. The audience sighs and accepts the situation cannot be helped, and what a good, selfless person Matsu was for behaving as he did and Yoshiko as well for fulfilling her duty as mother. There is nothing controversial about the film and its familiar theme and characters are comforting to the viewer. “The Rickshaw Man” is every bit the classic film without being too clichéd thanks to Inagaki’s careful handling.

Sources-
The Rickshaw Man (1958) – IMBd: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0051955/

Hideko Takamine – Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hideko_Takamine

Keiko I. McDonald. “Reading a Japanese film: Cinema in Context.” Chapter 4 “Period Film Par Excellence: Hiroshi Inagaki’s Samurai Trilogy,” page 66-67: http://books.google.com/books?id=VcFELCFqFQ0C&pg=PA66&lpg=PA66&dq=The+Rickshaw+man+1943+Japan+film&source=bl&ots=du8rVAUG3u&sig=FJF4EYQj7YHi_5BFlbVXM8a4AoM&hl=en&ei=2ua6TvmJK4Lo2gWSkf3LBw&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=9&ved=0CGMQ6AEwCA#v=onepage&q&f=false

Muhomatsu, The Rickshaw Man (1958) – New York Times Movies Review Summary: http://movies.nytimes.com/movie/41436/Muhomatsu-the-Rickshaw-Man/overview

Japanese History: Meiji Period (1868-1912) – Japan-Guide: http://www.japan-guide.com/e/e2130.html

A.H. Weiler. “Screen: Pastoral Japan. ‘Rikisha Man’ Opens at Fifth Avenue Cinema.” New York Times May 4, 1960. ProQuest Historical Newspapers, page 57. (I have a PDF of this article, I just was not sure how to post a copy on the blog).

1950's Films and War

The subject of war encompasses a large genre and so although directors Ichikawa Kon, Honda Ishiro, and Kurosawa Akira are all making films on the same subject, what they say and how they say it, varies greatly. As Ichikawa’s The Burmese Harp addresses war the most directly of the three films I will look it, it makes for a good starting point. Honda’s Godzilla is about World War II as The Burmese Harp is, but Godzilla addresses war through WWII images and the advent of the nuclear research and weapons. While the conflicts of Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai are not on the scale of the term war, the bandit plight is at least partially result of the civil wars going on in Japan at that time. The battle between the peasants and samurai versus the bandits is but war on a smaller scale. Given wars usually can full under the category of international politics and I am an International Relations major, I will be using some IR terms and concepts here and there for evaluating the films.

Director Ichikawa’s The Burmese Harp is without a doubt an antiwar movie, but that is not the main message of the film. Ichikawa does not shock us with violent and gory deaths as other war movies might, although we are shown some brief action. At this point, Japan has surrendered and most of WWII’s battles are past save for Triangle Mountain. We are shown the Japanese soldiers being taken out by the British soldiers, but the scene goes by quickly. We know that most of the soldiers were killed, but the battle scene lacks the intensity of battles such as the opening of Saving Private Ryan, for example. If anything, showing the conversation between soldier and harpist Mizushima and the soldiers he is trying to convince to surrender, is the stronger criticism. The soldiers are espousing a belief that they, given by their glances to the commander as they answer, do not truly believe in themselves. They will die for what they think might be the honorable thing to do. Ichikawa communicates much more through conversation and gestures.

As can be seen above, the soldiers are clearly dead, but the details are obscured by shadows and the bodies being piled together. Furthermore, when Mizushima discovers the bodies, Ichikawa uses music and Mizushima’s reaction to affect the audience rather than gory details. That is not to say Ichikawa lacks powerful emotion, far from it, just that he uses it elsewhere. It is melancholy and poignant when we see the many soldiers who have been died and left unburied, but the strongest emotions come from the soldiers trying to get Mizushima to come home with them. The singing scenes are by far the most moving scenes in the film.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bmJ_z50LHXc

Through singing, the soldiers keep their spirits up in the face of a less dire, but strong side effect of war, homesickness. In the video clip above, it is one of the first songs we hear in the film. It effectively communicates the nostalgia every one of the soldiers must feel and some of what they have given up for their countries. The song is used again later and it becomes even more powerful as we grow to know Mizushima better. As the soldiers sing and call to Mizushima to come home with them, we feel frustrated and distressed knowing that Mizushima has already made his decision and just how much he is sacrificing for the passed on soldiers. Overall, Ichikawa’s strongest criticism of the war, Japanese nationalism, is a short part of the film while the dead, a more general effect of all wars, is lamented solemnly. Ichikawa could have taken a much more critical stance on war, but either unaware of Japan’s war crimes or knowing the Japanese had suffered plenty, chose to take a more soothing approach through Mizushima’s mission. In IR Theory, it has been posited that one of the reasons the number of wars has decreased is the sheer cost of war beginning with World War I. Civil wars continue, but have dropped significantly and in this day and age, Imperial War, wars made to conquer territory, are rare. Modern weapons make the costs too high for gains too little. At least through The Burmese Harp, Ichikawa would seem to agree.
Godzilla certainly says that the costs of war, and the potential of nuclear weapons, are far too high. Where Ichikawa sought to help his audience remember what they have been through and help them heal, Honda’s Godzilla presents a much blunter reminder. The main plot of Godzilla highlights human actions and the consequences to them; Godzilla was awakened by humans testing nuclear weapons. In his wake, Godzilla destroys Tokyo with his sheer size and atomic breath, ruining home and killing many people. Shown below, the images of a burning Tokyo are highly reminiscent of what Japanese cities, including Tokyo, must have looked like when they were firebombed and Hiroshima and Nagasaki after they were hit with a-bombs during WWII.

Like The Burmese Harp, Godzilla offers some critiques about war in general, but differs in that its critiques are not at a specific country for the most part. The involvement of nuclear weapons implicates the US, as it is the only country to have used nuclear weapons and on Japan no less. However, no US soldiers or symbols are ever shown; Honda seems to be criticizing humans as whole rather than by nation. Scientist Serizawa has a weapon capable of destroying Godzilla, but is reluctant to use it for fear of what people will do with it after. Serizawa’s dialogue in particular warns about the nature of humans, including himself, which seems to say that all humans have that destructive potential, no matter where they are from. Unable to let more people die, Serizawa compromises; he allows the Oxygen Destroyer to be used, but then makes sure he dies too so Serizawa dies with the knowledge of how to create the Destroyer. Honda implies that although the US used the atomic bomb on Japan, Japan likely would have acted the same had the a-bomb been in their possession. Honda uses much more vivid and striking images than Ichikawa perhaps in the hopes that humans will not just mourn war, but be haunted by our potential so we may avoid war and the use of nuclear and other such weapons.



Seven Samurai may not feature a full scale war, but it does feature the same kind of planning, training, loss of life, and other consequences war usually entails. Compared with Godzilla and The Burmese Harp, Seven Samurai is a much more “slice of life” kind of story. Director Kurosawa takes the time to show us the daily lives of the farmers and individual samurai and uses his characters effectively. He shows the audience how miserable the lives of the farmers are, how they are secretly crafty, and why they should not be hated for being sneaky and cowardly. Kikuchiyo functions as a go between; he is a samurai, but was born a peasant and understands their plights. The circumstances of the civil war have made it so they must do everything within their power to survive. So while we may have trouble sympathizing with the farmers in comparison to the noble Kambei, Kikuchiyo shames the samurai and the audience for looking down on them when it is the world that gave them no choice as to how they should live. Kambei shows us as noble as we think him and other samurai; even he will hide in times of war if it will save his life. Through the characters, the audience gets more realistic depiction of war. Kambei and Shichiroji are brave and noble, but they do their best to survive. Seven Samurai’s ending also makes it different. While it is not unusual for soldiers and civilians to bear the brunt of the costs of war, samurai were glorified soldiers and yet they lost more than the farmers. Soldiers usually make sacrifices for their homeland, but the samurai have no place with the farmers. Although neither group in this film is technically participating in the Japanese civil wars, it has had consequences for all groups involved.

Japanese audiences surely asked themselves walking out of The Burmese Harp and Godzilla “Was the war worth it?” and the end of Seven Samurai seems to ask the same. Was protecting the peasants worth the lives of 4 samurai while they gained nothing for it? It could have been a policing war, meaning a third party intervened to prevent one state from becoming too powerful in the area, but that was not an apparent motivation in the film. None of these films offer a clear answer, but attest to what humans pay for conflict, no matter what the size. These three directors took fairly different approaches to the subject of war and yet each in their own way solemnly, directly or indirectly, presented their case against war. Honor in terms of battling to the death is a concept paid much lip service to, but the reality is far different. They would agree with IR scholars and say war is too costly to humans to continue as a means for settling disputes or to do anything truly.