Walking Kurosawa's Road: No Regrets for Our Youth

No Regrets for our Youth (わが青春に悔なし aka Waga seishun ni kuinashi, 1946) Kurosawa expands his scope and begins to broaden his subject matter with this, his fifth film for Toho Studios. The film moves in time from 1933 to 1946 following three students of Kyoto University as they navigate through their own torturous entry into life amidst the background of Japan's entry into, and their defeat, in World War II.

Following the "Manchurian Incident" (this occurred in 1931), Japan invades Manchuria on the false premise of securing the incident after a bombing (arranged by the Japanese military). Students at Kyoto University protest the invasion (a combination of Kurosawa's re-staging and newsreel footage). The teacher who has influenced the students, Professor Yagihara (Denjiro Okochi) is dismissed by the University's board for his leftist views. His daughter Yukie (Setsuko Hara), and aspiring pianist is being courted by two students, Noge (Susumu Fujita) one of the more ardent protesters, and Itokawa (Akitake Kôno), who is more conventional in his thinking.

The two students vie for Yukie's attention, but is becomes clear that, of the two, she is more attracted to the more passionate Noge. For practical reasons, that may seem a poor choice, for Noge soon disappears, his whereabouts unknown, but the truth is he has been arrested and thrown in jail for his part in the student protests. Yukie, however, never knows this until Itokawa tells her a year after his release from prison. It has been five years since she has seen him. The next time they are in the same room together, it is at a dinner at her father's house, organized by Itokawa, who has become a government prosecutor and who arranged for Noge's early release after vouching for his character...and something else.

The dinner does not go well. Professor Yagihara mentions that Noge would not have been released (even on Itokawa's say-so) if he hadn't renounced his earlier activity, and Noge admits that, yes, he has changed from his student days. He is no longer the fiery radical that he once was. Yukie is upset hearing this, and runs to her room, feeling the man she has loved has betrayed his principles. She only comes out again when Madame Yagihara tells her the two men are leaving and that Noge is travelling to China.

Yukie decides to move to Tokyo, where she makes a living doing menial jobs. Running into Itokawa, she hears that Noge has now moved to Tokyo and she goes to confront him, and they begin an affair that culminates in marriage. But, Noge is circumspect with her about his outside activities apart from work, and things come to a head when he is arrested by the Japanese government for spying. Yukie, herself, is arrested and interrogated but Itokawa intervenes and has her freed. Professor Yagihara travels to Tokyo to represent Noge in court, but he arrives too late; Noge has died in prison, and when Yukie is presented his ashes, she is determined to bring them to his parents.

Her reception there is not welcoming. Noge's parents, who are poor farmers, are elderly and are being shunned by their community for Noge's actions as a spy. They suspect Yukie of harboring the same prejudices, but are only convinced of her good intentions when she volunteers to plant their rice, which the father is unwilling to do, fearing a backlash from the community.

Indeed, once they've completed the back-breaking work of planting, the village , under the cover of night, destroy their work. But Yukie is defiant, determined to save the family and prove her worth to her husband's memory, his family and the community at large. It is only then that Yukie is accepted by Noge's parents, and when she is visited by Itokawa, she tells him that she will not go back to Kyoto. Her home is there, and she sends him away, telling him to never come back.

"Sacrifices must be made in the struggle for freedom." No Regrets for Our Youth  was Kurosawa's first film made completely after the second world war, with Japan under occupation by the United States. At this point, he had a bit freer reign over his subject matter than he did while being watched by the Imperial powers. He could give vent to some political talk (but not too much), and his his simple love story of devotion to higher truths and uncomplicated dedication to uncompromised decency holds true to his earlier "Sanshiro" films, but in a way far more relatable to his audience than stories about martial arts masters. No regrets speaks to every person in its desire to live with no regrets and the basic theme of it haunts: "No regrets for my life. No regrets for anything."

Walking Kurosawa's Road: Sanshiro Sugata, Part 2

The inability to write about the films of Akira Kurosawa to my satisfaction led me to to take a different path: start at the beginning, take each film in sequence, one after the other, and watch the progression of the man from film-maker to Master.   I'm hoping I can write more intelligently and more knowledgeably about his work by, step by step, Walking Kurosawa's Road.

Sanshiro Sugata Part 2 (Akira Kurosawa, 1945) Any director thinking that "they don't do sequels," should bear in mind that Kurosawa did one...with only his third feature film. Before embarking on his next project, the soon-to-be Japanese Master was pressed by his financiers to follow up his popular judo film with a continuation of the story, following the path of Sanshiro, now two years in self-imposed exile, having abandoned his position as Judo champion.

Things have changed, but he hasn't. The city he comes back to is now under occupation, and the disciplines that Sanshiro struggled so mightily to learn, seem to have little significance in this new atmosphere.

Returning home, his acclaim is widespread, but he's dissatisfied. A promoter tries to entice him into participating in a match with an American heavyweight champion for money, something that is both against the rules of Sanshiro's dojo and his own hard-fought-for beliefs. He attends, however, and is disgusted when the martial artist roped into the match is summarily pummeled before the crowd of blood-thirsty Americans and Japanese.

Things had changed for Japan, as well. Defeated in World War II, and occupied by the United States, the country that Kurosawa made the sequel in was far different from the one in which he'd made the original. And one can tell by the very first sequence that he bristled at it (despite the fact that the first film, made during the war, was chopped up by Japan's ministry, to the point where no original print exists). Imagine my shock when the first words heard in this film are in English.  They come from a belligerent American sailor hectoring, then threatening his rickshaw-driver—the abuse comes in a different language, but the opening is parallel to the situation in the first film, only now it's Sanshiro who comes to the aid of the driver, in the position (flat on his back) that he was in at the beginning of the first film, before his transformation.

He retreats to his Master's dojo, but sinks into a deep depression while, simultaneously, training that young rickshaw driver he'd earlier saved. His disciplines start to fall away, as he begins to drink, his fortunes falling as his young student's rises. The dojo provides no respite and relief—he is challenged to a fight by a tag-team of brothers, the Higaki's (also brothers to Gennosuki Higaki, the previous film's final combatant), one extremely aggressive and the other, deeply insane, to exact revenge on their fallen kin. He also reunites (discretely) with the woman who loves him, and with Gennosuki, who is now in ill health and seeks a reconciliation before he dies, a far cry from his brothers' path of vengeance.

The battles Sanshiro must fight—and avoids fighting—are much like the battles raging in his own mind. With his fame, and abilities still intact, he is caught in a dilemma of purpose—should he fight with the stakes becoming decreasingly honorable? And how long can he maintain his reputation while avoiding confrontation (and does he even want that reputation—with its incumbent honor—anymore, given how cheaply and shallow the value others impose on it are?). Is his reputation worth it in such a world? And will the matches with his own demons (represented by the brothers) keep him from maintaining his own "wa?" 

It's a universal problem negotiating the minefields, internal and external, that dot our lives. But, there's something else going on here, given the context and the environment in which Kurosawa made this film. This was his first post-war film after the Japanese surrender (Kurosawa paused in the filming of The Men Who Tread on the Tiger's Tail in order to listen to Emperor Hirohito's "Gyokuon-hōsō") and for the nation this was a crushing, demoralizing defeat, especially given the fervor that the government had invested in its people.

How does a nation, especially one so steeped in tradition and pride, endure after such a concession? Kurosawa encapsulates the answer in the fighting brothers who have challenged Sanshiro, one incapacitated by an epileptic "spell," the other who fights the master on a hilltop—not of frantic wind-swept grass as the first film—but a precipice blasted by snow. After a long struggle, where Sanshiro is mostly passively defensive, the revenge seeking Higaki is defeated and sent tumbling down the hill. He is saved and tended to by Sanshiro, while under the baleful watch of the younger Higaki brother, who in a moment of clarity, understands Sanshiro's purpose and responds to his brother's lament with the same words...and a beaming smile.

The influence of the good, the dedicated, the humble, and the charitable perseveres in this world of defeat and cynicism. One could take the position for seeking revenge, but how much better it is to have grace—not curling up and dying, of course—and follow the better path, as this most popular of Japanese heroes, demonstrates.

This may be the greatest sequel in all of film. But more than that, it is a gift from an up-and-coming master filmmaker to his nation, at its most desperate hour, in gratitude for the opportunities he had been given, and providing balm, solace, and wisdom, to go on. It is an amazing film, inside of itself, and outside in the world in which it was made.

Walking Kurosawa's Road: The Men Who Tread on the Tiger's Tail

The inability to write about the films of Akira Kurosawa to my satisfaction led me to to take a different path: start at the beginning, take each film in sequence, one after the other, and watch the progression of the man from film-maker to Master. I'm hoping I can write more intelligently and more knowledgeably about his work by, step by step, Walking Kurosawa's Road.

The Men Who Tread On the Tiger's Tail (aka 虎の尾を踏む男達 aka "Tora no o wo fumu otokotachi?") (Akira Kurosawa, 1945) Set-bound tale of a feudal lord's attempt to make it back to friendly territory after a successful naval campaign against his enemies. But, to get there, Lord Yashitsune Minamoto (Hanshirô Iwai) must travel through land controlled by one of his enemies, Togashi (Susumu Fujita), who is on the lookout for him and will kill him if he is found. To get through, he poses as a porter, accompanied by six samurai, led by Beiko (Denjirô Ôkôchi), acting as monks on a religious pilgrimage to raise funds for a temple to be built in Kyoto.

It's a tale of suspense, with very little action, save for the subterfuges, disguise, flummery, and appeals to Kataoka's patriotism and faith (which are legitimate but used for false purposes), knowing that any slip-ups will mean death by sword by a very large collection of border guards.  So, in other words, all of the heroes are lying and using the best instincts of their foe against him. Hardly the high-minded ideals one associates with dedication to country or God. In fact, the only of the group that isn't decidedly two-faced is the comic relief, another porter (played by Kenichi Enomoto), who could be Japan's answer to Jerry Lewis in his early career, whose frequent panic attacks could give it all away at any second. You'd want to strangle Enomoto's porter, if he wasn't so entertaining and a tonic against the heavy earnestness of the rest of the movie.

On location

The film was made during the last days of the Pacific War during World War II, which is why the only segment filmed on location is the forest scenes at the beginning. The rest was filmed at Toho Studios and filming was briefly interrupted to listen to Hirohito's surrender speech ending hostilities. Toho and Kurosawa were visited by John Ford during the filming, and one of the first people to see The Men Who Tread on the Tiger's Tail upon completion was British director Michael Powell. However, the film was banned by the Supreme Commander of the Allied Powers (led by General MacArthur) for its depictions of feudalism (in the attempt to make the Japanese less tied to their heritage and more embracing of American culture), but if they'd taken a more careful look at the film, they'd find that it was making a statement against the very cultural fanaticism the SCAP was trying to prevent. Oh, well. The result was that the film was banned until 1952.  

In the studio

One can't help but think that this might have had an influence in his next two films, where the war's ending and the Allied occupation of Japan played very important roles.

Walking Kurosawa's Road: Sanshiro Sugata (1943)

The inability to write about the films of Akira Kurosawa to my satisfaction led me to to take a different path: start at the beginning, take each film in sequence, one after the other, and watch the progression of the man from film-maker to Master. I'm hoping I can write more intelligently and more knowledgeably about his work by, step by step, Walking Kurosawa's Road.


Sanshiro Sugata (aka: 姿三四郎; aka Judo Saga) (Akira Kurosawa, 1943) Every hero's journey begins with the first step; it is true in this film's story and in reel life, this being the first full-length feature of legendary film director and stylist Akira Kurosawa. One already sees reflections and echoes of the Master's work and influence rippling out from this one, even as it, itself, builds on the reverberations of Western film-making traditions.

Made during the Second World War and heavily cut by the Japanese government for sentiments that some petty bureaucrat probably imagined might hurt the war effort, Kurosawa's first big effort and first success has never recovered from the sword of the censor—the missing pieces have never been found. 

But, what there is proves enlightening...and telling.

It is a hero's journey. Sugata (Susumu Fujita) is a novice fighter who wants to learn jujitsu, but is given short shrift by the school of martial artists he joins.  When they hear a master of the rival judo order is in town, the entire group decides to confront the man, Shogoro Yano (Denjirô Ôkôchi). In a fight at a canal's edge, Yano takes on all comers, dispatching them into the frigid water—the first of many examples of the "last man standing" scenes that would dominate Kurosawa's film and his students, Sergio Leone (and also Clint Eastwood). Those impressive results are all Sugata needs to switch disciplines, studying the ways of judo with Yano.

But, what the apprentice gains in skill he lacks in discipline, squandering his unfocused talents getting into sporadic street-fights that disappoint his Master.  In a desperate bid to win Yano's respect, Sugata dives into the freezing waters at the judo temple, risking his life, but also gaining an understanding of "satori," represented by the sight of a single blooming flower, growing straight and tall in the frigid waters. The strength of Nature is revealed to him, and the apprentice has found the inner truth to master his craft. 

At that point, Sugata becomes renowned as the toughest fighter in town to beat, and he is challenged by jujitsu fighters determined to best him. One can't help seeing the "gunslinger" analogy here, as the new guns and old challenge the now-humble, wiser Sugata to matches of skill to the death, like he was the "fastest draw." Just as, no doubt, Kurosawa drew on Westerns for his martial arts saga, his work would come full-circle, inspiring Westernized versions of his work—specifically, The Magnificent 7 and A Fistful of Dollars.

It's an analogy to life itself—you make your way through it, and you may have what it takes, but it is only by knowing oneself and seeing the Bigger Picture that one can truly make a success of life.  Already, Kurosawa is tackling big themes.  But, you can already see his command of staging with Nature acting as an emotional well-storm, culminating in a passionate fight between two rivals for one woman's hand, on a wind-swept hill of violently whipping tall grass.

I have so many Kurosawa film reviews sitting in various drafts, never feeling secure in my grasp of his work, so I've decided I'm going to start at the beginning and work my way through his career. In the next few weeks, you'll be seeing more and more of his films cropping up here, a result of my own faltering tentative journey observing his remarkable work. Hopefully, somewhere along the path, focusing on his work, I can achieve some wisdom about it.