05 June 2010

Tora-chan, The Abandoned Kitten (すて猫トラちゃん, 1947)


At the peak of his career, Kenzo Masaoka (政岡 憲三, 1898-1988) was sometimes referred to as the Japanese Disney because of the high quality of his work and their broad appeal to young audiences. Masaoka was unable to attain the international renown of Disney due to difficulties in securing funding for his work, wartime constraints (artistic, financial, and lack of access to film stock), and ultimately his early retirement due to problems with his eyesight.

Sute Neko Tora-chan (Tora-chan, The Abandoned Kitten, 1947) was Masaoka’s third to last film: the first in a series of three films featuring a little tabby cat in the lead role. ‘Tora’ is Japanese for tiger, and ‘chan’ is an affectionate diminutive. The film begins on a snowy Christmas day with a choir singing about the arrival of snow as a group of four kittens dance around a giant Christmas tree. As Tora-chan’s bell falls of his neck and a female calico kitten ties it back onto him, the story shifts into a flashback to tell the tale of when Tora-chan joined the family. 
 Sunflowers used as seasonal reference at beginning and end of flashback sequence

The season of the flashback is suggested as summer by the prominence of sunflowers in the mise-en-scene. A mother calico cat is out for a walk with her three very young kittens when they hear Tora-chan mewling. The mother cat distributes milk from a bottle amongst her own little ones then takes Tora-chan onto her lap and gives him some milk as well. She then decides to bring him home with them. Tora-chan tries to fit in with the family, but the older sister, Mika-chan, is jealous and does everything she can to spoil his fun. The mother cat moves to protect Tora-chan from her jealous fits and Mika-chan decides to run away.

The family frantically searches for Mika-chan around the house, but brave Tora-chan takes it upon himself to run after her with a bottle of milk in his hands. Along the way he and Mika-chan encounter many dangers and adventures, and she continues to be resistant to his attempts to bring her home again. After he saves her on more than one occasion, he finally convinces her to come home with him. He is also welcomed back into the family and the scene flashes forward again to the Christmas scene with Mika-chan and Tora-chan looking out the window together at the wintery scene from the warmth of the family home.
 The cats' home is made out of old cartons,
which no doubt would have resonated with children of the
late 1940s who were often living in shanties due to the
destruction of Japanese cities during the war.

The animation is of a very high quality with great attention to detail, beautiful transitions between sequences, and a lovely soundtrack. The dialogue is almost entirely sung and has an operatic quality to it, similar to the Vera Lynn or Edith Piaf style of singing that was popular in Europe during the war. I would imagine that the theme of this film struck a chord with children in cinema audiences of the time, appealing as it does to the numerous children who had lost fathers or were orphaned during the war. Sute Neko Tora-chan promotes the idea that families should open their arms and welcome into their families children who have less fortunate circumstances than themselves.
 Tora-chan and the calico kittens dancing around 
the Christmas tree in the opening sequence.

Apart from the Japanese lyrics, and the features of the characters’ faces that have much in common with Japanese illustration for children of the early part of the 20th century, the film actually looks very ‘Western.’ I suspect that the choice of Christmas, a popular American movie theme, was deliberate in order to avoid problems with the American Occupation censors. The Americans forbade the use of traditional Japanese folktales in animation at this time because of the way in which they had been manipulated for propaganda purposes during the war (esp. Momotaro).  Masaoka had run into troubles with censors during the war for Spider and Tulip because it did not address wartime concerns. It would have been unthinkable for him to use Christmas as a motif five years earlier because American customs were suppressed by the wartime regime. By choosing a Western theme, the film likely avoided trouble with the new breed of post-war censors entirely.

Not only had Christmas not yet become as popular a romantic motif as it is today in Japanese pop culture, but also the use of sunflowers to indicate summer during the flashback is highly unusual for a Japanese film. Sunflowers are native to Cental America, not Japan. As Masaoka studied traditional Japanese painting in Kyoto, in which seasonal imagery play a particularly important role, the choice of sunflowers also stands out as a Western touch. Masaoka was also educated in Western painting under the Paris-educated painter Seike Kuroda (黒田清輝, aka Kiyoteru Kuroda , 1866-1924) – where he likely would have studied artists like Vincent van Gogh. This suggests to me that Masaoka’s choices of Western visual imagery were very deliberate. In Japanese films, summer is usually indicated by the singing of cicadas. Flowers associated with summer in Japan would more likely be lotus flowers (hasu) or morning glories (asagao) - while they do fight off a chicken at one point with lotus leaves, the flowers are not prominent in the film.
 Kittens pressing their faces up to the window
to look at the snow in the final sequence.

Comparing Masaoka to Disney, I would say that his animation equals Disney’s in terms of level of visual sophistication. If Masaoka had had access to funding on the scale of Disney’s I have no doubt that he would have produced work equal to films like Snow White. The choice of kittens for the film may have been influenced by the 1935 Disney short Three Orphan Kittens (part of the Silly Symphonies), which I have heard was a favourite film of Masaoka’s contemporary Kon Ichikawa (市川 崑. 1915-2008). 

It is also interesting to note that the film is shot in black and white, when Disney films had been in colour for over a decade by this time. Even after the war, film stock as scarce in Japan, and I am sure that colour stock would have been nearly impossible for filmmakers to get their hands on at this time. The first colour film (as in using colour stock – films were of course hand-tinted in the silent period) in Japan as Teinosuke Kinugasa’s Gate of Hell in 1953. Not even Kurosawa made films in colour until 1970. 

In conclusion, I would like to give a special mention to the composer of the musical score for Sute Neko Tora-chan - it is beautifully composed and performed.  The "yokatta ne" refrain at the end is particularly catchy and has stayed with me all week.  The composer, Tadashi Hattori (服部正, 1908-2008), was an accomplished composer who scored many films of the 1940s and 1950s as well as doing classical and operatic compositions.   He is perhaps most famous for his Akira Kurosawa scores such as The Men Who Tread on the Tiger's Tail (1945), No Regrets for Our Youth (1946) and One Wonderful Sunday (1947).  He also composed scores for numerous other Toho Studios films by such directors as Mikio Naruse, Ishiro Honda, Tomu Unchida, Kon Ichikawa and Teinosuke Kinugasa.

This film is available on Anido’s DVD Kumo to Tulip: The Works of Kenzo Masaoka, which one can order through their webshop.


© Catherine Munroe Hotes 2010

31 May 2010

Shinsetsu Kachi Kachi Yama (新説カチカチ山, 1936)


Kon Ichikawa (市川崑, 1915-2008) is most famous for his feature film output including such masterpieces as The Burmese Harp (ビルマの竪琴, 1956), Fires on the Plain (野火, 1959) Alone on the Pacific (太平洋ひとりぼっち, 1963), and the documentary Tokyo Olympiad (東京オリンピック, 1965).  In his youth, Ichikawa adored the animation of Walt Disney. The Silly Symphonies inspired him to join the talkie animation department at J.O. Studios in Kyoto in 1933. He began as an assistant animator and learned on the job how to write scenarios, colour cels, and edit films.  In1936 he wrote, directed, animated, and edited a “manga eiga”, as animation was known in those days, called Shinsetsu Kachi Kachi Yama (新説カチカチ山).

The film belongs to  the J.O. Studios series Hana yori Dangonosuke (花より団子の助). The main protagonist of this series, Dangonosuke, is a cross between the Japanese folk hero Momotaro and Mickey Mouse. Unlike today’s anime which starts with the animation and adds the soundtrack afterwards, J.O. Studios followed the American system of beginning with a scenario and recording the soundtrack before drawing the animation. In many ways, animation was an experimental process at the studio, with the animators studying American animation for inspiration. It was labour intensive work, with not as much financial reward as for feature films.  Ichikawa was actually forced to take over all aspects of the animation of Shinsetsu Kachi Kachi Yama himself when the studio started cutting back staff in order to concentrate their efforts on feature films.

The story could be considered a sequel to the traditional story Kachi Kachi Yama, one of the few Japanese tales in which a Tanuki (racoon-dog) is a bad character. The original story is a brutal tale about a Tanuki who commits terrible crimes.  A Hare witnesses these crimes and punishes the Tanuki for them.  In Ichikawa’s sequel, the Tanuki seeks revenge by kidnapping the Hare and Dangonosuke chases after them to rescue  him. The brutality (not unlike the brutality of the original Grimm fairy tales) of the traditional story is softened substantially, which suggests that children were the intended audience.

The animation has 3 planes: a background, middle ground, and foreground and is animated fairly simply. The character movement lacks the fluidity of the Disney animation that Ichikawa was trying to emulate. This was a year before the groundbreaking release of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs and even the Silly Symphonies were already of a very high quality and in colour by the mid 1930s. Kenzo Masaoka’s 1935 talkie version of Chagama Ondo (茶釜音頭/A Dance Song with a Kettle) also has much smoother character movement and transitions than Shinsetsu Kachi Kachi Yama. However, taking into account that Ichikawa was a novice animator and he had to do most of the production himself (direction, animation, cinematography and editing), the film is not so bad. The film’s biggest flaw is the music, composed by Akio Nishiyama, which doesn’t match the instruments that are shown.

Historically the film is fascinating because of how closely Ichikawa emulates Disney’s character style. Most of the eyes are black and oval – quite unlike the wide-eyed Bambi eyes that are associated with anime characters today. Bambi came out in 1942, which would mean that Japanese animators like Osamu Tezkua would not have seen it until after the war. 

While watching Shinsetsu Kachi Kachi Yama, I was reminded of Steamboat Willie (1928).... and not just because of the attempt at coordination of music and animation.  In the screencap of Steamboat Willie below, notice the body shape of the 'bad' character Captain Peg-Leg Pete: 
The 'bad' Tanuki in Kachi Kachi Yama has a similar size, body shape, features, and movement:
The animals in the orchestra. . .
. . .  resemble in facial features, body shape, and character movement of the animals in early Disney shorts like this cow in Steamboat Willie:

Here is a screencap of the hero, Dangosuke, looking at a book of the original Kachi Kachi Yama story for inspiration on how to fight the Tanuki:
Dangosuke's eyes and face, hair, and even his shoes resemble that of Mickey Mouse, but compare him in this photo, where he had called some warrior friends to help:
with the Momotaro from Mitsuyo Seo's 1945 war propaganda film Momotaro: Umi no Shimpei:
Or a more contemporary representation of Momotaro for the NHK:

Since its inception, American film has influenced Japanese cinema, from Akira Kurosawa's love of John Ford to Ozu's love of silent comedies. Shinsetsu Kachi Kachi Yama sheds new light for me on just how strongly Kon Ichikawa was influenced by American cinema in the early part of his career.  The influence of Chaplin was easier to spot in his more famous works, but I didn't understand the Disney connection until I saw this animation.  It's a fascinating mixture of Japanese folklore and American animation aesthetics.

This film, which has been preserved by the National Film Center in Tokyo, had limited availability until Kadogawa Entertainment released Style of Ichikawa Kon: Art + CM + Animation on DVD in 2008. This DVD features Ichikawa’s lyrical documentary about Kyoto, Shinsetsu Kachi Kachi Yama, his puppet film Musume Dojoji (1945), as well as over 30 years worth of commercials that Ichikawa directed for companies like Suntory Whiskey and White Lion Toothpaste.

While all the films featured on this DVD were considered rare before its release, Shinsetsu Kachi Kachi Yama and Musume Dojoji are of particular historical significance. Musume Dojoji is a pre-Mochinaga/Kawamoto/Okamoto example of a puppet film made in Japan and was considered lost for decades. Shinsetsu Kachi Kachi Yama is one of the few surviving examples of animation from J.O. Studios, not to mention the fact that it is central to understanding Kon Ichikawa’s early development as a filmmaking artist. 
Style of Kon Ichikawa - Art + CM + Animation / Japanese Movie
Style of Kon Ichikawa - Art + CM + Animation



This volume includes Kachi Kachi Yama




© Catherine Munroe Hotes 2010

15 May 2010

Toad’s Oil (ガマの油, 2009)


When visiting friends of ours in Hamanaka (Hokkaidō) many years ago, I was fascinated by obāchan’s morning and evening ritual of praying at the butsudan (仏壇) in the corner of the family’s Japanese style room. A butsudan is a Buddhist shrine found in both temples and homes and is used for praying to Buddha and to one’s deceased family members. The butsudan is often decorated with photographs of the deceased and their souls (tamashii) are belived to reside in the butsudan. Each morning obāchan would offer fresh water and rice to Buddha and the souls of the dead.

Renowned actor Kōji Yakusho (Shall We Dance, Warm Water Under a Red Bridge, The Eel) also admits to a fascination with the butsudan, and thus chose it as a key metaphor in his directorial debut Toad’s Oil (Gama no abura, 2009). Yakusho himself plays the lead role of Takuro Yazawa, a wealthy middle-aged man who makes his money by high risk day trading. When his gambles bring him profit, Takuro celebrates in a juvenile way by shooting off pellet guns. His egocentric eccentricities are indulged by his wife Teruko (Satomi Kaboyashi of Kamome Shokudō and Megane) and his sweet-tempered son (Eita of Dear Doctor and Nodame Cantabile).

The Yazawas live in an oversized house with clinically white interiors. The emptiness of the house stands as a metaphor for the shallowness of the family’s existence. Takuro communicates with the outside world through technology (computers, phones) and codes, such as the one he invents with his son’s girlfriend Hikari (Fumi Nikaidō in her feature film debut), and has little to no physical or spiritual contact with others. This all changes abruptly when tragedy strikes the family and Takuro heads off on a journey that will bring him back into touch with painful and nostalgic memories from his childhood while teaching him to face head on the grief and emotional challenges of the present.

The screenplay contains many touches added from Yakusho’s own personal experiences. For example, the flashback scene in which a young Takuro climbs up to the top of the butsudan to clean it on the advice of a travelling salesman, was inspired by a real incident in Yakusho’s life. Such travelling salespeople were commonplace in the Edo period selling folk medicine such as gama no abura (oil from the Japanese common toad) and a few continue working up until this day. The salesman and his wife act as a link between modern Japan and a past filled with tradition and legend. The salespeople are not just selling folk medicine but folk wisdom as well. The salesman reminds Takuro that people die twice: the first time is the physical death and the second one is the spiritual death when people stop remembering you.

At times I found Toad’s Oil a bit indulgent in terms of pacing – in my opinion, Soichi Ueno (Oh, My Buddha!, Dai Nihonjin, The Uchōten Hotel) should have convinced Yakusho to shave off some of the scenes to get the film under two hours in length – yet viewers should remain patient because the film does not give up all its secrets until the very end. Like the Oscar-winning film Departures, Toad’s Oil, opens a fascinating window into the relationship that the Japanese have with death and dying. While the film is thematically and visually rooted in Japanese culture, it has a message that can be universally identified with: that the spirits of loved ones who have passed away will continue to exist as long as we remember and cherish them.


Directed by
Kōji YAKUSHO
Original Story by
Kōji YAKUSHO and Hideko NAKATA
Screenplay by
URARA
Cinematography by
Toyomichi KURITA
Featuring music by
Tablatura

Cast
Takuro Yazawa • Kōji YAKUSHO
Terumi Yazawa • Satomi KOBAYASHI
Takuya Yazawa • Eita
Hikari Horie • Fumi NIKAIDO
Saburo Akiba • Junichi SAWAYASHIKI
Kōtaro • Tōru MASUOKA


© Catherine Munroe Hotes 2010