FILM NOIR IN POSTWAR JAPAN Imogen Sara Smith uined buildings and neon signs are reflected in the dark, oily surface of a stagnant pond. Noxious bubbles rise to the surface of the water, which holds the drowned corpses of a bicycle, a straw sandal, and a child’s doll. In Akira Kurosawa’s Drunken Angel (1948), this fetid swamp is the center of a disheveled, yakuza-infested Tokyo neighborhood and a symbol of the sickness rotting the soul of postwar Japan. It breeds mosquitos, typhus, and tuberculosis. Around its edges, people mourn their losses, patch their wounds, drown their sorrows, and wrestle with what they have been, what they are, what they want to be. Things looked black for Japan in the aftermath of World War II. Black markets sprang up, as they did in every war-damaged country. Radioactive “black rain” fell after the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Black Spring was the title of a 1953 publication that cited Japanese women’s accounts of rape by Occupation forces. In “Early Japanese Noir” (2014), Homer B. Pettey wrote that in Japanese language and culture, “absence, failure, or being wrong is typified by blackness, as it also indicates the Japanese cultural abhorrence for imperfection or defilement, as in dirt, filth, smut, or being charred.” In films about postwar malaise like Drunken Angel, Kenji Mizoguchi’s Women of the Night (1948), and Masaki Kobayashi’s Black River (1957), filth is everywhere: pestilent cesspools, burnt-out rubble, grungy alleys, garbage-strewn lots, sleazy pleasure districts, squalid shacks, and all the human misery and depravity that go along with these settings. For about a decade after the war, Japanese cinema held up an unsparing mirror to the nation as it struggled to rebuild and move beyond the shame of defeat. R28 NOIR CITY I NUMBER 29 I filmnoirfoundation.org filmnoirfoundation.org I NUMBER 29 I NOIR CITY 29 Black Rain Japanese Girls at the Harbor (left) and Women of the Night (right, with Kinuyo Tanaka and Sanae Takasugi) both feature complex relationships between women living on the margins of society Like plants that spring up after fires, noir thrives in destabilized BLACK HAIR societies, expressing their disillusionment, anxiety, and uncertainty. The evolution of film noir in Japan began well before World War Few countries experienced more radical and disorienting change in II. In the early 1930s, Yasujirô Ozu, known for his serene, delicately the twentieth century than Japan, which after centuries of isolation heartbreaking domestic dramas, made several stylish crime dramas went through a rapid spurt of modernization, followed by the rise that are at once openly indebted to Hollywood and thrillingly inno- of militaristic nationalism climaxing in the cataclysm of World War vative, demonstrating the extent to which the Japanese invented II. During the war, the government banned Hollywood movies and their own film grammar. Silent movies like his jazzy, wittyDrag - censored the film industry, demanding stories that upheld traditional net Girl (1933) and director Tomu Uchida’s brooding, emotionally values and glorified the nation’s history. Afterward, American occu- charged Police Officer (1933) tackle themes of disillusionment, piers imposed their own restrictions, banning support for feudal or guilt, and the confusion of young people trapped in the cultural nationalist systems and expressions of “anti-democratic” values. crossfire between tradition and modernity, East and West. Mean- Yet cinema flourished in the postwar years, demonstrating Japan’s while, the country’s great heritage of female-centered dramas laid cultural vitality, boldly confronting the country’s past and future, bare the rotten deal Japanese women got from the society’s rigid and expressing a dynamic ambivalence toward its national identity. gender hierarchy. Hiroshi Shimizu’s Japanese Girls at the Harbor In his 1948 essay “The Gangster as Tragic Hero,” Robert War- (1933), a lyrical but wised-up fallen woman saga, takes a noir turn show wrote that democracies are committed to an optimistic faith in when the heroine, in one reckless, life-changing moment, pulls a gun progress; only feudal and monarchical societies can enjoy the luxury and shoots her romantic rival. She becomes a drifting dance-hall of a fatalistic or pessimistic view of life. American noir represents a hostess, resigned to the fact that, as her tough-cookie friend puts it, subversive countercurrent to the prevailing religion of success and “Life is short, but troubles are endless.” continual improvement; Japanese noir, by contrast, is just one more Japanese cinema’s poet laureate of female pain was Kenji Mizo- expression of a cultural tolerance for tragedy. The dreamy, lush, guchi, who relentlessly portrayed women’s place as chattel, forced glamorous side of Hollywood noir is entirely absent from these to sell their bodies as their only assets and then cast aside the postwar films; instead there is a neorealist emphasis on sweat, grime, moment they transgress or lose the bloom of youth. Mizoguchi’s dust, desperation, sickness, and abject poverty, sometimes reaching breakthrough films,Osaka Elegy (1936) and Sisters of the Gion a pitch of feverish excess. Here, noir is not merely an interior mood, (1936), explode the sentimental enshrinement of women’s loyalty or an underworld into which a careless individual can slip; it is the and self-sacrifice. In the former, Isuzu Yamada plays a working girl condition of a whole society, inescapable as the weather. who succumbs to life as a kept mistress in order to help her ungrate- 30 NOIR CITY I NUMBER 29 I filmnoirfoundation.org Masaki Kobayashi’s gorgeous Kwaidan (right) launched the genre of ghost movies that includes Kuroneko (left, with Nobuko Otowa), and continues to influence today’s J-horror ful family, who in turn reject her when she is arrested for cheat- For stories about women scheming to destroy men, you have to ing a lecherous older businessman. In the final scene, she stands look to supernatural horror films likeKuroneko (The Black Cat on a bridge at night, looking down at the garbage floating in the [1968]), about the ghosts of women who seduce and kill samurai to dark water, and admits that she has become a “stray dog,” without avenge their own rape and murder, or the “Black Hair” episode of home, family, or moral anchor. Kwaidan (1964). (Vengeful female spirits are common in Japanese Mizoguchi returned to Osaka in 1948, using the rubble-strewn, folklore—and no wonder.) It is refreshing to come across a film with battered cityscape as a backdrop for one of his most harrowing a female protagonist who defies her victimization. Keisuke Kinoshi- films, Women of the Night. It is not only about women descending ta’s Woman (1948) is as compressed as a haiku: barely more than an into prostitution, mistreated by men and society, but about women hour long, with only two characters, and set over a single afternoon. descending into savagery, so brutalized that they themselves become cruel enforcers of their own wretched lot. There are several scenes in which mobs of streetwalkers surround a girl or woman and viciously beat her; these horrible spectacles are set in bombed-out The film is not only about lots or, in the climactic instance, the wreckage of a church, the ruins heavy-handedly symbolizing the decay of humanity. Disease, spe- women descending into cifically syphilis, is another metaphor for a desperately ailing soci- ety. Fusako, played with spirit and sensitivity by the great Kinuyo Tanaka, loses her husband to the war, her baby to tuberculosis, and prostitution but about her parents to malnutrition; after discovering that her boss/lover is also sleeping with her sister and has given them both a venereal women descending into savagery, disease, she becomes a streetwalker, declaring her intention to get “ revenge on men by infecting as many of them as she can. Mean- while, her naive teenage sister-in-law is raped and then forced into so brutalized that they them- prostitution by a nasty girl gang. It is easy to see why women liv- ing through such experiences would become hardened, preferring to selves become cruel enforcers dish out punishment rather than take it, but by the end the viewer herself feels thoroughly pummeled and abraded. Japanese noir suffers from a glaring shortage of femmes fatales. of their own wretched lot. filmnoirfoundation.org I NUMBER 29 I NOIR CITY 31 a dragonfly. When she softens, moved by his distress, a tiny, cynical twitch of the mouth gives him away. Will she see through him? The question builds as much suspense as any thriller. BLACK MARKETS Akira Kurosawa often embeds messages in the landscapes of his movies. In High and Low (1963), he maps social inequality onto the topography of Yokohama, creating the starkest contrast between the sleek, modern aerie of a wealthy businessman and the hellish, broiling slums below where a kidnapper plots against him. In the humanist masterpiece Ikiru (1952), a polluted vacant lot symbol- izes the waste that results from a callous, negligent bureaucracy. In Drunken Angel it is that poisonous sump that represents a literally and figuratively diseased society. Takashi Shimura plays a scruffy but compassionate doctor who rails against both the unhealthy conditions of the slums and the stu- pidity of those Japanese who remain enslaved by what he calls “that feudal loyalty crap.” One night he removes a bullet from the hand of a yakuza and diagnoses him with tuberculosis, setting off a vola- tile relationship in which the hot-tempered “angel” tries to convince the proud, self-destructive hoodlum to change his ways. Toshirô Mifune is electrifying in his first of sixteen films with Kurosawa. Startlingly handsome and flashily dressed in a pinstriped sport coat with greasy hair hanging down in his face, he drunkenly jitterbugs in a dance hall to the “Jungle Boogie.” His character is tragic, even pathetic, as his faith in the yakuza code of honor and loyalty is shattered by the realization that the boss sees him as an expendable pawn.