The Challenge of Living
"To Live" (Ikiru) Analysis
The study of Kurosawa’s works is enormously enriching and essential as far as cinematographic understanding is concerned. For this reason, the present article, available also in a bilingual version, reviews the author’s techniques through the filmic analysis of To Live (Ikiru), one of his most remarkable works. From a formal point of view, intertwined at the same time with the contexts and intertexts that influenced the film so much, and providing a final interpretation, the skills and methods that Kurosawa made use of throughout his filmography can be glimpsedd.
Ikiru (To Live, 生きる, Akira Kurosawa, 1952) meant the consolidation of Japanese cinema worldwide after Rashomon’s (Rashōmon, Akira Kurosawa, 1950) success got the world to start exploring the vicissitudes of Nippon cinematography. Considered one of the masterpieces of Japanese cinema and Akira Kurosawa’s filmography, this film tells, in an innovative and characteristic way, with authorial hallmarks, but keeping a rigid contact with tradition and other artistic sources as enriching as painting or literature —such as will be seen further on— the life or, rather, the death of Kanji Watanabe, a town hall official who works as boss of the citizens’ section. The film demonstrates Kurosawa’s cinematographic command, patent from the first two minutes of this work. With a marked existentialism and humanism, an overwhelming philosophical depth and an audacious narrative structure, the author of this work addresses transcendental issues, as old age, the sense of life, and, all in all, the adventure of living. Thanks to its great ability of delight us during all the movie in both its formal and textual aspects, this construction becomes an exponent of the seventh art.
The Techniques of Kurosawa
Formal or Stylistic Analysis of Ikiru
Throughout this work, we find numerous interesting formal aspects: some related to tradition; others that give a glimpse of Kurosawa’s individual character. From the narrative point of view, the film is structured in two parts. The first one, composed by the adventures of Watanabe (Takashi Shimura) before he died, after the announcement of his terminal cancer, guided by a voice-over which narrates from the character’s point of view the way he decided to turn his life around; and the second one, structured in flashbacks, which also employs the voice-over resource.
The staging reflects the marks of the director, since the dramatization of the dialogues and the character’s performances, undoubtedly influenced by the Nippon theatre (noh and kabuki), to whom Kurosawa was so attached in tastes —as it happens in other of his films—, endow this o fan unusual style (see Figure 11).
Remarkable is the use he makes of the montage, both external and internal. As for the first one, it is observed the way he utilizes it in base on what he wants to evoke us. For example, the sequence in which the protagonist, Watanabe, wanders around the city with the young writer he has just met, experiencing the vices he had forbidden himself to have throughout his life—frequenting nightclubs, drink alcohol, going out with women— in endowed with a frenzy in crescendo, whose intensity is achieved through a mostly analytical montage that keeps the viewer’s intrigue and attention at all times: far from conveying fun, it unsettles us when recreating what we could consider a nightmare. The use of shorter shots, whose cadence is accelerated on screen, makes it possible. As the author Raúl Álvarez Gómez (2018: 141) expresses, Goodwin appreciated in Kurosawa his capacity of relaxation or contraction of time by means of the alteration of contemplative moments and moments of violent action, with which he got that anxiety status and temporary disorientation.
It especially contrasts the previous and subsequent shots, as these do not have quick changes. Instead, the characters develop their story in fixed shots, unhurried, not for that reason exempt from emotion. They are inclusive shots that, far from not maintaining our attention, invite us to be part of the scene (see Figure 1). As explained by the author Donald Richie (2001: 20-22), the influences of the different types of theatre in Japanese cinema (kabuki, shimpa) possessed similarities such as the long general shots that leave a mark on Japanese cinema. It is «the notion of the frame as a stage, […] where the public’s attention was directed by the dialogue».
Figure 1. Conversation. Continuing with this sequence, we observe the use he also makes of music with this same purpose. In this case, in disagreement with the almost funereal main theme, we are shown a sequence equipped with sounds and accelerated music that contribute to generate in the spectator a certain sensation of overwhelm or unease. Kurosawa’s diegetic use of music during all the film is characteristic of the filmmaker, since he introduces songs which constantly remind us that the character is going to die —like the popular song that Watanabe himself intones at the end of the sequence or the one he uses at the end of the film to close it, in which we can see him swinging in the park he has helped to build—.
With an aspect ratio of 1.37:1, Kurosawa represents the human figure by resorting to a wide variety of shots, although he stands out the close-up shots —according to Donald Richie (2001: 171), on which he had a great dependence—, sometimes repeated during the film, of his protagonist, Watanabe, to show us his suffering. He always looks in the direction of the camera; however, he does not look directly into the lens, being even harder than if he were to appeal to the viewer directly. An example of this is found in the aforementioned song that Watanabe intones at the end of the named sequence. Likewise, he utilizes the same device with other characters.
Figure 2. Watanabe intoning a popular song about old age. On the other hand, it does not shows extravagant or striking angles, but as for the lighting, it shows an excellent command and play of lights and shadows, with the recurrent chiaroscuro developed throughout the film; another technique very present in his filmography (Álvarez Gómez, 2001: 127); as are the low key illuminations (Donald Richie, 2001: 171).
Fig. 3. Watanabe in a death drive (chiaroscuro). Figure 4. Low key illumination. Another noteworthy aspect of the external montage is how it combines the narration in two clearly differentiated parts, the first, narrated barely at the beginning by the voice-over according to the protagonist’s point of view; and the second, again narrated by the voice-over, in which it integrates flashbacks interspersed with the funeral of Watanabe himself, now dead. The change in the point of view between both parts is drastic: it goes from the adventures of the living protagonist (and the turn he decides to give to his life), to his funeral, in which the people that knew him are the ones who introduce the character. An ellipsis, and subsequent flashbacks, articulate the change.
The voice-over performs an important role as well. It surprises the contrast between the tragic and dramatic nature the film per se has, with the voice-over, which do not follow this line (sometimes, it seems even comical). It is a way of appealing to reason rather than to the emotion of the spectator. An example is found at the beginning, in which we are told in a neutral way, while we see the character of Kanji Watanabe working, that he has cancer, although the character does not know it yet. It does not produce sadness, nor practically any emotion in us, since the way of doing it is cold, aseptic, as if it were an «insect documentary» (Ariza Canales, 2018: 6). Similarly, at the end of the film we are not shown a tragic death in the Western style: the voice-over simply announces that five months have passed, and that Watanabe has died.
Likewise, Kurosawa resorts to compositions in which he positions the camera behind fences, curtains, windows or other similar objects, to show through them the scene, inviting us to look, as witnesses of an event; either he employs ingenious shots, original from the aesthetic point of view, that revitalizes the action by putting the centre of attention on the author’s mark of the cinematographic enunciation.
Figure 5. Reflection. Figure 6. Camera behind a curtain. Figure 7. Camera behind object. As far as the narrative construction is concerned, the start of this film is characterized by the speed with which Kurosawa defines the characters (their shortcomings) and introduces the conflicts. In the first two minutes of the film, Kurosawa performs a precise description of the protagonist —literally, by means of the voice-over—, announces his main characteristic (particular idiosyncrasy of the character) and give a glimpse of the conflict. It speeds up the process somehow, although later, that description will be modified when we discover the personal development Watanabe goes through after becoming aware that his life is about to be over.
The film commences with a critique of work alienation, which well concurs with the philosopher Herbert Marcuse’s idea that «if the managed life is the most comfortable life and even “the good life”», actually there will exists a less value of freedom (González García, n.d., 12). Kurosawa weaves the main thread of the story, to which will be added the secondary conflicts (love, experiences), through which the plot is built. Finally, the conflicts are resolved, albeit in a bittersweet way: the protagonist manages to carry out the work of his life, but dies when he had really started “to live”.
The Exploits of Ikiru
Contexts in which the Film is Born
Released in 1952, Ikiru achieved worldwide recognition, after de trail marked by another classic by the master Kurosawa, Rashomon, which won the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival. Eliminating what seemed to be a barrier between two worlds, East and West, with Rashomon begins the Golden Age of Japanese cinema (1950), which is translated into flourishing cinematographic period for Nippon cinema marked by international success. Produced by Sōjirō Motoki, and not by a super production company, Ikiru is born.
The work takes shape just at the beginning of the II post-war period in Japan (1945) and after its occupation by the Allied Powers (1951-1952). A period in which, according to Donald Richie (2001: 105-114), the identity crisis that Japanese cinema was going through was alleviated after the disappearance of the enormous restrictions dictated by the Occupation and after the split of the imposition of reflecting “the Japanese being” of the government. However, the film is created at a time of industrial and financial accumulation; although politics did not pay much attention to the ordinary citizen, there was in a stable situation, contributing to the film’s success. Before this sociocultural context, Kurosawa conducts a subtle, though obvious, critique of the administration and bureaucratic society of Japan at the time, still present in many countries, where the civil service does not respond to a vocation of public service.
Then began what, in the words, again, of Donald Richie, would be known as a «period in which films reflected the harshest realities of post-war life» (2001: 114), where despite the economic recovery led by the Allies, the cities suffered again from a strong industrialization that triggered the contrast between the rural and the modern and where society needed almost ten years to recover. The case of many other films such as Tokyo Story (Tōkyō monogatari, Yasujiro Ozu, 1953), Repast (Meshi, Mikio Naruse, 1951) o Where Chimneys Are Seen (Entotsu no mieru basho, Heinosuke Gosho, 1953) reflect this.
On the other hand, art is going through a period in which the change from the old to the new (break with tradition) is predominant. Thus, a great deal of neo-realism surrounds this film, breaking with previous techniques (Gónzalez García, n.d., 53). In the fifties, three issues (young, interpersonal conflicts and desires) surrounded the cinema, which was focused on the new generations —with, for example, Godzilla— and already followed the North American cinema style, quite well widespread culture in the country. Far from all this and, therefore, in contrast, but of course influenced by the West and its techniques, of which Kurosawa was a great admirer, Ikiru was born. It reflects well, in addition, this colonization of North American culture in Japan, especially in terms of leisure and sport.
For is part, Kurosawa was going through a delicate moment on a personal level: his friend and composer Fumio Hayasaka was dying of tuberculosis. The filmmaker explains it in the following way: «Sometimes I think about my death… and I think about how I will stand breathe until my last breath. Living a life like that, how will I be able to leave it? I feel that I have so much left to do… I feel that I have lived so little. Then, I stay pensive, but not sad. From this feeling was born Ikiru» (Vivir: Muerte y vida en Akira Kurosawa. Revista +1 UIC).
It is evident that the humanism that characterizes Kurosawa’s cinema, takes on in Ikiru an outstanding nature.
Intertext: Mixture of Arts, Traditions and Kurosawa’s Authorial Traces
«In cinema, painting and literature, theatre and music come together. But a film is still a film», Kurosawa said. In effect, the autonomous nature of cinema itself draws from the convergence of other predecessor arts (let us remember the famous manifesto of the seven arts by Ricciotto Canudo). Ikiru is nourished by and produces numerous reference networks: from the cinema, to painting, going through theatre and literature, this film draws from many sources, as well as later will influence others.
In the literary sphere, Ikiru is directly to the novel The Death of Ivan Ilyich (1886), by Leo Tolstoy, on which he bases to tell his story: «What it in reality my whole life, my conscious life, has not been as it should have been?» (Tolstoy, 1886).
But, in addition, it draws from many other sources in his creative process. For example, the dramatic nature of his dialogues, which are more “complex” than the ones of other films, influence the characters’ performances (see Figure 8). And the reason is that Kurosawa was a great lover of noh and kabuki theatre, which translates into his films in the form of hard frames and pictorial compositions (not being able to directly reflect its chromatic richness for his black and white cinema condition) (Caparrós Lera, 2010: 2). On the other hand, Kurosawa’s cinema borrows some features from Western culture, of which the filmmaker was a great admirer. In fact, as pointed out by Donald Richie (2001: 25-27), the narration and the most narrative character of Japanese cinema comes from the West, which breaks with the tradition of kabuki or shimpa, characterized by being simple successions of scenes.
Figure 8. Dramatization of dialogues and expressions. Beyond Ikiru, other movies of him are adaptations of Western novels, such as Ran (1985), based on Shakespeare’s King Lear (1603), Throne of Blood (1957), based on Shakespeare’s Macbeth (1963), or The Seven Samurai (1954), based on Aeschylus’ Seven Against Thebes (467 BC). From them he borrows the moral and philosophical conflicts (Centeno Martin, 2018: 5). According to Manuel Ariza Canales (2018: 1), even the few comic scenes in his films have, as in Shakespeare, a double reading, a further reflection, a teaching. Mª Fernández González García (n.d.: 36) opines that Watanabe even has common features with the hero of the twilight western. The influence of the narrative style of the Central European and Russian silent films are also evident in his work. Even the trigger of his films —some moment of crisis on the part of his protagonists— is a repeated formula before and after in every culture.
Kurosawa himself admits the influx of Dostoyevsky’s writing en Ikiru, as well as that of Goethe (the appearance of a “demon” who drags our protagonist into the night and vices) or the zen vision of the samurai code of Bushido (the path of the warrior), according to Mª Fernanda González García (n.d.: 6-21).
We can observe, furthermore, in Ikiru the influences of previous Japanese directors: the humanism and search of stylistic beauty of Mizoguchi, Ozu’s (sometimes) scarce camera movement, the social critics brought to the cinema by Ichikawa, or the sentimental melodramas conducted by Keisuke Kinoshita. In general, Asian cinema (not only Japanese) stood out at the time because of its humanistic tradition and deep thematic (Kemp, Frayling, 2019: 211).
Trained as a painter, Kurosawa was always strongly influenced by painting in his works, and in the more technical aspects of his black and white films predominated the baroque influence (Rembrandt, Caravaggio) with the use of the aforementioned chiaroscuro (compare Figures 9 and 2), triangular composition (see Figure 10), the narrative time intensification, the use of nature as an emotional metaphor and the tension of forms (compare Figures 11 and 12) (Álvarez Gómez, 2018: 1). Later, he would move on to post-impressionism with colour (let us recall the famous episode he dedicates to Van Gogh in his film Akira Kurosawa’s Dreams [Yume, 1990]).
Figure 9. A man signing by candlelight. Adam de Coster, Caravaggisti painter. See Figure 2. Figure 10. Triangular composition.
Figure 11. Conversation between a sick man and Watanabe about to be diagnosed. Figure 12. David. Miguel Ángel Buonarroti. Terribilità (Tension of the forms). On the other hand, we find cinematographic resources shared in his films. As in Rashomon, Ikiru utilizes at the end of the film the flashback technique to tell the story, something that the director handles with skill and in which, we must remember, he is a pioneer, breaking the traditional narrative linearity by fragmenting it —in this case, after a big ellipsis—. This could be, for its part, the greatest example of enunciation or authorial mark that exists in the film, since the famous handling of narrative fragmentation is attributed, on multiple occasions, to Kurosawa.
Far from the institutional manner of representation coined by Noël Burch, Kurosawa’s staging of his protagonists or the use of montage and camera movements, also entails authorial characteristics present in his entire filmography.
And, of course, the performance of Takashi Shimura (1905-1982), the fetish actor of Kurosawa (together with Toshiro Mifune) who participated in 22 films out of the 30 that made the director, thus undoubtedly constituting a hallmark (despite his enormous career as an actor) in the filmography of the director.
Conclusions: Ikiru as memento mori
«Attending the screening of Ikiru (1952) is a memento mori, a brutal and lyrical reminder that at some point we will cease to exist; and, in the most genuine line of this genre, it constitutes also, and above all, a wakeup call for us to become aware of our life and what we do with it. Its strength lies in the everyday of the story, in the vulgarity of the character: we all know some Mr. Watanabe» (Ariza Canales, 2018: 5).
Ikiru, is a film that has been acclaimed by film scholars and audiences since its inception. It occupies a before and after in the filmography of this director; some scholars consider it his most accomplished work and one of the masterpieces of Japanese cinema. With a strong existentialist and humanist weight, it tells us something as basic and at the same time transcendental as life and death from the point of view of a boring civil servant, which ends up being a philosophical reflection.
Inevitably, despite its Japanese character, Ikiru reminds to American films such as It’s a Wonderful Life (Frank Capra, 1946). In the words of Antonio Lastra (2008: 66), it would be unimaginable to think about it without It’s a Wonderful Life, just as it would be to talk about Tokyo Story without doing so about I Remember Mama (George Stevens, 1948). Despite the enormous artistic differences between one and the other, which are many, both tell, in their own way, through a voice-over or an entity that is not directly materialised in the plot (remember that in It’s a Wonderful Life is St. Joseph and Clarence, an angel who has to earn his wings, and in Ikiru an omniscient narrator), part of the story in a tone that does not concurs with the tragedy of the events shown by the camera.
As compared by Antonio Lastra (2008: 67), Ikiru would borrow from his North American “analogue” stories like Watanabe’s drowning in a pond as a child from George Bailey’s deafness as a result of rescuing his brother in another pond, frozen. Lastra reflects about when the angel in It’s a Wonderful Life grants Bailey his wish of not to have been born and he hears perfectly, a new thought is born: he recovers his health, but the object of his life is still not perfect. It is only when realizing this, —he says, quoting Klein—, that we overcome the «mourning». In other words, it is only when we realise that we have everything to be happy, and that what we attribute to our present situation is not the real guilty of it, that we can stay afloat and live again.
Both serve as a lesson and a teaching on the value of life and wish to show that this is a gift, a gift that we should love and enjoy, seek rather than wait for, being aware that we will not always be here. That the cinema is not just an illusion, «redeeming physical reality […] and even offering a possibility of healing for the soul is what films like Ikiru aim to achieve by giving the world the attention it needs» (Lastra, 2008, 63-34). Moreover, both films follow the same plot line, who is to say that in twenty years’ time George Bailey (James Stewart) would not have ended up a Watanabe if it were not for the direction events had took? Anchored in a job he hates, which does not even allow him to enjoy his wedding day, things don’t get better, despite his hopes, over the years.
In short, Ikiru is a work that expels a great richness in all, absolutely all, its aspects, no matter where you look at it. A wonderfully made drama that will be worthy of being subject of study and enjoyed for many years to come.
Footnotes
[*] This article is one of the results of the Collaborative learning of film analysis in transnational and interuniversity environments project, developed in the academic year 2019/20 among the students of the subject Teoría e historia de los medios audiovisuales of the Degree in Media Communication (Grado en Comunicación Audiovisual, Facultad de Comunicación y Documentación, Universidad de Murcia) and the Japanese Studies Program of the BA Film and Media of the School of Arts of the Birkbeck Collage (University of London).
- Referencias bibliográficas
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